1 On my childhood best friend’s birthday, I put on a new dress, did my makeup perfectly, and invited all our friends, planning to finally confess the feelings we’d shared for ten years. I waited from six in the evening until eleven at night. He never showed up. As everyone was leaving, I glanced into the private room next door and saw him locked in a passionate kiss with my best friend. I turned around, threw myself into the arms of the most popular guy in school, and sobbed, “Do you want to give us a try?” The day I was supposed to leave the country to study abroad with that same guy, my childhood friend ran up and grabbed my arm. “She told me that a little jealousy would make you need me even more! Please, don’t go!” To hell with childhood sweethearts. This time, I’m rewriting my own script. I had spent an entire month preparing for this night. 999 paper cranes, each one inscribed with something I wanted to say to him. The walls were covered with photos I’d secretly taken of Leo over the years—sweat dripping down his face during a basketball game, him chewing on his pen with a goofy grin, and one time when he fell asleep studying, drool nearly pooling on his homework. In the center of the wall, surrounded by a halo of balloons, was a sign that read: “It’s been ten years. Let’s be together.” I thought he would be moved, that he would hug me and say, “I’ve liked you for a long time, too.” I never expected this. I sat there like a joke from six o’clock until eleven, and he never even came. My friends started exchanging nervous glances. One of the guys finally grumbled, “Can we just eat? I’m starving.” The girl next to him kicked him under the table, then turned to me with a strained smile. “He’s probably just held up at practice. You know how it is with athletes.” The pity in her eyes was like a needle, making my face burn. “It’s fine, you guys go ahead and eat,” I said with a smile, my voice light, even as my heart sank into a cold, dark pit. The party wound down, and people started to leave. I was the last one out, my head spinning as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me. As I passed the private room next door, I glanced inside out of habit and froze. Leo was there, holding Maya, his lips pressed against hers as if he wanted to devour her whole. Maya was my roommate. And my best friend. I stood there, a roaring in my ears. I wanted to storm in, to tear them apart, but my hand stopped on the doorknob. What right did I have? Was I his friend? His “little sister”? What gave me the right to question him? I turned to leave and stumbled into a waiter’s tray behind me. Red wine splashed all over me, all over my new white dress, staining it a deep, blood-red. My friends heard the crash and came over. They saw the scene in the room and stood there, awkwardly silent. Someone handed me a napkin. Someone else looked away. Another pretended to be busy on their phone. After seeing them all off, I couldn’t hold it together anymore. The heel of my high heel twisted, and I collapsed onto the sidewalk. The jar of paper cranes shattered, the glass shards cutting my hand. Blood mixed with the wine on my dress. All my strength left me, and I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Just then, a suit jacket was draped over my shoulders. I looked up to see a hand reaching out to me. It was Ethan. 2 I remembered he was one of the invited guests tonight, but he had been sitting quietly in a corner the whole time, so much so that I’d barely noticed he was there. He looked at my pathetic state, his hand still extended, and said, “Let me take you home.” I took his hand to stand up and fell into his arms, clinging to him tightly. The tears came even harder, a messy torrent of snot, tears, and smudged makeup, all over his clean white shirt. “How could they?” I wailed, oblivious to the stares of passersby. “Why would they do this to me?” He didn’t seem to notice the onlookers either. He just gently patted my back, soothing me like I was a frightened kitten. Back in my dorm room, I crawled into bed and shut my eyes, trying to will the night away. The door creaked open. Maya was back. “Ava!” she called out excitedly as she walked in. The blanket was pulled back to reveal her beaming face. “Leo and I are together! Aren’t you happy for me?” Seeing my cold expression, she quickly added, “You’re not mad at me, are you?” I looked at her. There was no guilt on her face, only a smug triumph. “I’m not mad,” I said quietly. She let out a sigh of relief. “I knew you were the best,” she said with a smile, then sat on the edge of my bed and started recounting their love story. “Last week, when he helped me carry my books, our fingers touched.” “He remembered that I don’t eat cilantro.” “Today, in the private room, he said he’d been waiting for this day for a long time.” “He kissed me first, you know. He’d had a little too much to drink and said he’d liked me since the first time he saw me.” She was animated, her lips curved into a triumphant smile. As I listened to her go on and on, I thought about a month ago, when I was up all night folding those paper cranes for Leo. She had said to me then, “If a guy ever did something like this for me, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.” I thought about how, just a few days ago, she had encouraged me, telling me that if I liked someone, I should just be brave and tell them. I just didn’t realize she was talking about them, not me. “As long as you’re happy,” I sighed. She paused, seemingly surprised by my calm reaction. 3 Leo and I grew up together. He was an athlete from the school next door—tall, handsome, with a sunny disposition and dimples when he smiled. Every time he came to find me for dinner or to hang out, I could never bring myself to leave Maya alone, so the three of us became a familiar sight on campus. But Maya… She knew. She knew how long I’d liked Leo. She knew that for years, I had shared every secret, every flutter of my heart, every romantic fantasy with her, holding nothing back. She knew that today, in that very room, I was planning to tell him, “Let’s be together.” And yet, on the day of my planned confession, she was in the room next door, kissing the boy I loved. Maya continued to chatter in my ear. “Ava, please don’t be weird about me and Leo getting together. We still think of you as our best friend!” “The three of us can still be just like before!” “If you’re mad, it would make me really, really sad.” My face was a cold mask. I couldn’t be bothered to answer her. She looked at me, then asked tentatively, “Will you come shopping with me tomorrow? I want to buy matching couple outfits.” I pulled the blanket over my head and replied coldly, “I’m busy.” Undeterred, she tried to pull the blanket back, ready to say more. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. A little while later, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Leo. “I’m the one who went after her. Don’t take it out on her.” “She thinks of you as a sister. What kind of friend are you being? She’s been crying all night!” “Don’t be jealous just because Maya and I are together. If you bully her again, we can’t even be friends anymore.” I stared at the screen, a sickening feeling twisting in my stomach. I remembered when we were ten, and he carried me home after I scraped my knee, promising, “I’ll always protect you.” On my fifteenth birthday, he gave me a basketball with “Wishing Ava a lifetime of happiness” written on it. After we graduated high school, he said, “I’ll go to the university next to yours, so I can always look out for you.” Those memories clashed with the image from last night, exploding in my mind. I clutched the corner of my blanket. It turned out the boy who grew up with me wasn’t the person I thought I knew at all. 4 The next morning, I went to the dean’s office to re-apply for the full scholarship to Oxford that I had previously given up. The administrator flipped through my file. “There you go,” she said. “It would have been a real shame to let such a great opportunity go. I was afraid you’d regret it, so I never submitted your withdrawal form. See? Now you’re back.” She continued to chatter. “What is with you kids these days? Treating your futures like a game.” “That Ethan kid, too. He got the spot, then gave it up, only to apply to the same school on his own… I just don’t get it.” My heart skipped a beat. “This spot… Ethan gave it to me?” The administrator nodded. “He did. His advisor and I tried to talk him out of it. He was so set on that school, but when he got the scholarship, he just refused it. Insisted on applying through the regular process. I’ll never understand what goes through your heads.” I walked out of the office in a daze, her words echoing in my mind. I didn’t know Ethan well. I mostly knew of him from others—the campus heartthrob who dominated the university’s social media every month, the genius who was always at the top of his class, and, rumor had it, from a very wealthy family. The kind of guy girls would steal glances at wherever he went. In my memory, he was always untouchable, with a warm but distant smile, maintaining a polite social distance from everyone. If we had any interaction at all, it was in the packed library before final exams. There was always an empty seat next to him, and since I was always late, I’d drag Maya to sit there. We had barely exchanged a few words. But I remember one time, I was stuck on a problem, so frustrated I almost ripped my textbook in half. Ethan, sitting next to me, “happened” to get up and leave just then. I glanced over and saw the complete solution written out in his notebook. I felt a little thrill of victory and quickly copied it down. Just as I finished, he came back and picked up the notebook he’d “forgotten.” Another time, I fell asleep at my desk while working on an architectural model. When I woke up, a jacket was draped over my shoulders. I had always assumed it was Leo’s. Now that I thought about it… Leo wasn’t even there that day. How could I have been so blind, so certain that he was the only one who cared about me? Before, I was so wrapped up in my feelings for Leo that I was oblivious to everything else around me. Now, all these little details I’d never noticed before were coming into sharp focus. I thought about last night, how I’d cried all over him, my ruined makeup and tears smearing his shirt. My face started to burn. What an embarrassing memory to have. 5 To celebrate his new relationship with Maya, Leo invited our entire four-person dorm room out for hot pot. The table was laden with Maya’s favorite dishes. He tenderly placed food on her plate, gently pushed her hair back when she leaned over, and wiped the corners of her mouth. He barely ate himself, spending the entire meal doting on her and watching her with a loving smile. Our other roommates sighed in admiration. “Leo is so good to Maya! It’s like a fairytale romance!” “I’m so jealous! This is the cutest thing ever!” Maya playfully tapped Leo’s arm and said to our roommates, “You know, I always thought Leo liked Ava. They grew up together, after all. But he told me they were really just friends, and that I’m his type.” She said it casually, but her eyes kept flicking over to me. Leo chuckled, picking up a piece of beef and feeding it to her. “What did we know as kids? Ava and I are just like brother and sister.” I kept my head down, stirring the food in my bowl, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Suddenly, Maya turned to Leo, pouting. “I heard you built a little greenhouse in your backyard. Can you take me there later? I was always so jealous when Ava told me about you two going there together.” My hand froze, my chopsticks nearly clattering into the pot. Leo’s smile didn’t falter. “Of course. From now on, I’ll only take you.” My fingers tightened, my nails digging into my palm. That was our secret place. A greenhouse Leo had built just for me. On my fifteenth birthday, he painted glowing stars on the glass ceiling and told me, “This place is just for you and me.” I had nodded seriously, and I had believed him until this very moment. She turned to me, a bright, innocent smile on her face. “Ava, want to come with us?” Leo immediately interjected, “We’re on a date. Why would we bring someone else?” I looked up at them, my voice laced with indifference. “No, thanks. I’m sick of that place.” Their smiles froze. I had no interest in watching their little performance any longer. “I’m done. I’m leaving,” I said, getting up from the table. A cold wind hit my face, making my eyes sting. I walked out and stood at the street corner, staring at my own shadow under the lamplight. I felt as lonely as a stray dog. 6 My phone vibrated. It was a message from Ethan. “The administrator told me you’re going to Oxford too. Do you have time to discuss study abroad stuff?” I thought for a moment and replied, “Sure. Give me a minute.” The place he suggested was my favorite dessert shop. When I pushed open the door, I saw him immediately, sitting by the window. His long, elegant fingers were tapping restlessly on the table, making him look a bit nervous. On the table was a slice of my favorite strawberry cake. “How did you know I like this?” I asked, surprised. His eyes darted away. “I just ordered randomly,” he mumbled, but his ears were turning a telltale red. I leaned in, a smile playing on my lips, and studied his face. “Really?” I blinked. He froze completely. I was so close I could see the gentle flutter of his eyelashes and the faint dark circles under his eyes. He cleared his throat awkwardly and handed me a folder. “I’m also planning to go to this school, so I put together some information for you.” His voice was steady, but his hand trembled slightly. I took the folder and opened it. Inside wasn’t just course descriptions, but also study tips, a guide to living abroad, and even notes on the research interests and preferences of various professors in the architecture department. I looked up at him, shocked. “This must have taken you a lot of time. But how did a finance major manage to prepare all this for an architecture student?” He froze again, at a loss for words. I pressed on. “The administrator said you gave me your scholarship spot?” He was stunned for a second but quickly regained his composure. “It… it wasn’t challenging enough,” he stammered. “I wanted to test myself by applying through the regular process.” “Is that so?” I said, a teasing glint in my eye. “Yes…” He picked up his water glass and took a sip, avoiding my gaze. “But… you’re drinking from my glass,” I pointed out. He froze, looked down at the glass in his hand, and his ears instantly turned a fiery red. He quickly set it down, stammering like a guilty schoolboy. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” I couldn’t help but laugh. He was actually kind of cute. I picked up the bag beside me and handed it to him. “This jacket… you’re the one who put it on my shoulders, right?” He opened the bag and glanced inside. His hand tightened around the handles, his voice barely a whisper. “You know?”

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1 My sister-in-law couldn’t produce milk after giving birth. She sent a topless photo to my boyfriend, a doctor. “Dr. Leslie,” she wrote, “I heard suckling can help stimulate milk flow.” My boyfriend replied: “I’m an OB/GYN. For a sow in heat, you see a vet.” Feeling insulted, my sister-in-law framed him for sexual harassment, posting an edited video online that went viral. My boyfriend’s medical license was revoked, and in his despair, he took his own life. Even then, my sister-in-law continued to stoke the flames of public opinion online. “A man with no common decency like that deserved to die.” I dragged her to the roof of our apartment building and we fell to our deaths together. When I opened my eyes again… I was reborn, sitting right in front of my sister-in-law, who had just given birth. … I opened my eyes again to find myself on the living room sofa. The air was a sharp mix of hospital antiseptic and the faint, sour smell of milk. My eyes darted around, disoriented, until they landed on a pale, gaunt face. It was my sister-in-law, Laura. She had just given birth and was wearing a striped blue-and-white hospital gown, leaning weakly against the headboard of a temporary bed set up in our living room. My brother, Mark, was holding a bowl of chicken soup, carefully blowing on each spoonful before lifting it to her lips. “Laura, honey, just a little more. Mom simmered this all morning for you.” Laura pushed the spoon away with a look of disgust. “I can’t stomach it. I have no appetite.” Her voice was frail, laced with an almost imperceptible thread of irritation. “My milk just won’t come in. The baby won’t stop crying from hunger. It’s breaking my heart.” That sentence was like a lightning bolt crashing through my mind. I was dead. I had dragged Laura to the rooftop of our thirty-story apartment building and jumped, taking her with me. The whistling wind, the gut-wrenching feeling of freefall, the sound of shattering bone, and Laura’s terrified screams. And then, endless, icy darkness. But now, here I was, real and solid. I looked down at my own two hands, perfectly intact. This wasn’t the afterlife. I was reborn. Reborn before the tragedy began. My brother was still worried sick about Laura’s inability to breastfeed. My boyfriend, Julian, was still alive and well. He hadn’t yet had his life destroyed by a single topless photo and a vicious lie. He hadn’t had his medical license revoked, hadn’t been driven by endless despair and a campaign of cyberbullying to leap from the roof of the hospital. He hadn’t yet become an eternal, unhealing scar on my soul. A tidal wave of hatred churned in my chest, threatening to burn my sanity to ash. I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug deep into my palms, the sharp pain the only thing keeping me grounded. Laura. I stared at her, at that pitiful, angelic face. In my last life, that was the face that had fooled everyone. She had cried to me, claiming Julian had verbally abused and harassed her after she’d simply asked for advice on milk production. She had edited their chat history, releasing only Julian’s final, provoked message. “I’m an OB/GYN. For a sow in heat, you see a vet.” She never mentioned that she had first sent him a photo of her bare chest. The caption read: “Dr. Leslie, I heard suckling can help stimulate milk flow.” She didn’t say it, so I never knew. I even had a massive fight with Julian over his “inappropriate language.” Later, Laura posted the edited video online. Public opinion exploded. A helpless new mother, shamed and humiliated by an unethical male doctor. It was the perfect story for a viral outrage. Doxxing, death threats, and curses flooded every corner of Julian’s life. The hospital, buckling under the pressure, suspended him pending an investigation. He tried to explain, but no one would listen. When he produced the complete, unedited chat logs, Laura just started a livestream, sobbing that the photo was photoshopped, that Julian had made it all up in a bitter rage after she had rejected his adLeslies. She claimed she was suffering from postpartum depression and had only been seeking a doctor’s help, only to be treated so cruelly. She said she didn’t want to live anymore. The self-righteous internet mob grew even more furious. They protested outside the hospital with banners, threw paint on Julian’s front door, and mailed him razor blades. Finally, to quell the public outcry, the hospital board revoked Julian’s license to practice medicine. That day, he sent me one last text message. “Joanne, I didn’t harass her. But I guess that doesn’t matter anymore. I’m sorry. I can’t take it.” By the time I rushed to the hospital, all I saw was a cold body under a white sheet. And Laura, she was still online, guiding the narrative. She posted a long essay about how the wicked get what they deserve. The final line—”A man with no common decency like that deserved to die”—was a knife in my heart. It was in that moment that I finally snapped. I stormed back home, ignoring the protests of my parents and brother, and dragged a leisurely, TV-watching Laura up to the roof. “You love playing the victim, don’t you?” I had whispered in her ear. “Let me show you what real despair feels like.” Then I wrapped my arms around her and leaped. 2 I couldn’t believe it. I was reborn. Back at the very beginning of the nightmare. Laura sat across from me, her face sallow from childbirth, her expression a mixture of irritation and a faint, cruel edge. “Nothing. Not a single drop,” she complained, tugging at her bulky nursing top while whining to my mother. “Mom, the baby is screaming his lungs out from hunger, and my breasts feel like rocks. What am I supposed to do?” My mother, for whom her grandson was the center of the universe, was wringing her hands. “Don’t panic, honey, we’ll figure something out. Just drink more of the soup.” “I’ve already had three huge bowls! My stomach is about to burst, and it’s useless!” Laura’s tone was sharp with impatience. My brother, Mark, stood by helplessly, trying to soothe her. “Honey, don’t be angry. It’s bad for your recovery.” “How can I not be angry? Your son is starving, and I, his mother, can’t even give him a drop of milk! I’m useless!” As she spoke, her eyes reddened, and she put on the face of a martyr who had suffered the world’s greatest injustice. In my last life, that was the exact expression that had fooled everyone. She looked at me, a flicker of calculation in her eyes. “Joanne, isn’t your boyfriend a doctor?” Here it comes. Exactly like the last time. I dug my nails into my palm, the sharp sting keeping me focused. I couldn’t be a fool and fall into her trap again. “Joanne? What are you thinking about?” Laura raised her voice when I didn’t respond. I looked up, meeting her probing gaze, and forced a stiff smile. “Oh, just thinking about my boyfriend.” “Well, hurry up and ask him,” Laura immediately pressed. “He’s a top doctor, he’s got to have a solution.” My mother also looked at me with pleading eyes. “Yes, yes, ask Julian. He’ll know what to do.” My brother chimed in. “Yeah, Joanne. Your sister-in-law is about to burst into tears.” See? They were all on her side. It was the same in my last life. They had all pressured me to ask Julian. Back then, I’d thought it was normal for family to help each other out. I had no idea it was a meticulously laid, poison-laced trap. I took out my phone and tapped on Julian’s profile picture. It was a photo of him in his white coat, taken on the hospital grounds. He was smiling, a warm, clean smile that reached his eyes. My own eyes instantly burned with tears. Julian. This time, I won’t let you suffer a single injustice. No one will ever hurt you again. 3 In front of all of them, I sent Julian a message. 【Hey, you busy? My sister-in-law just gave birth and she’s not producing any milk. Do you have any professional advice?】 I didn’t just give Laura his contact info like last time. This was the first step. I had to control the channel of communication. Laura leaned over to look at my phone. When she saw my straightforward, professional question, a flash of annoyance crossed her face, but she didn’t say anything. Julian replied quickly. 【Physical stimulation is one of the standard methods, like having the baby suckle more frequently. A breast pump can also help. Also, the mother’s emotional state and diet are very important. Tell her not to panic.】 His reply was professional and by-the-book. I showed them the phone. My mom nodded. “Julian’s right. You can’t get stressed.” Laura just pouted, her face a mask of disbelief. “Easy for him to say. The baby’s mouth is raw from trying, and it’s not working. I’ve used the pump, too. It hurts like hell, and it’s still useless.” She paused, then steered the conversation back to her original point. “Joanne, can you ask your boyfriend for me again… about that… physical stimulation. Besides the baby suckling, are there any other methods?” Her gaze became pointed, almost lewd. I knew what she was asking. In my last life, this was how she had guided me, leading me step by step into the abyss. I pretended not to understand, my face a picture of innocence. “Other physical stimulation? What do you mean, Laura?” Laura choked on her words, seemingly surprised by my “cluelessness.” She had no choice but to be more explicit. “Well… I’ve heard that… you know, an adult… is more effective. More powerful.” After saying it, she shot a meaningful glance at my brother. Mark’s face flushed crimson. “I… I tried. It didn’t work…” Laura immediately rolled her eyes, her face dripping with disdain. “What do you know? This requires a professional! Your sister’s boyfriend is an OB/GYN. He’d definitely know best!” She practically shouted the last sentence at me. The atmosphere in the room turned bizarre. My mom coughed awkwardly and made an excuse. “I’ll go check if the baby is awake.” My brother used the opportunity to slip out as well. Now, it was just me and Laura. Her objective was nakedly clear. “Joanne,” she said, grabbing my hand and adopting a chummy tone. “We’re family. I’m just out of options here. Look at my face, I’m so pale. If I can’t produce milk, what’s going to happen to the baby? Your boyfriend’s a doctor. Saving people is his duty, right?” She was buttering me up, laying the groundwork for moral blackmail. “Just talk to him for me. Do it as a favor for me, for your little nephew. If he helps me, I’ll give you a big fat check afterward.” I looked at her hypocritical face, and my stomach churned. She had said the exact same thing in my last life. I had been so blinded by the idea of “family” that I had actually gone and begged Julian. He had been silent on the phone for a long time before finally asking, his voice laced with profound disappointment, “Joanne, what kind of person do you think I am?” He was right. What kind of person had I taken him for? A tool to be used, one who would casually trample his professional ethics to satisfy the unreasonable demands of a relative? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Laura, how could I possibly ask him something like that?” I said, putting on a troubled expression. “What’s so hard about it? This is for the baby!” Laura’s tone was non-negotiable. “Besides, he’s a doctor! This is a medical treatment! Think about your little nephew, wailing from hunger. Can you really bear to see that?” She was using the baby as a weapon again. I laughed coldly to myself. For the baby? She was just trying to satisfy her own twisted desires and, at the same time, test Julian’s boundaries, to see if this accomplished, well-off young doctor could be easily manipulated by her. “But… he’s my boyfriend,” I continued to play dumb. “It wouldn’t be right for him to do something like that for you, would it?” “What’s not right about it? If you don’t say anything, and I don’t say anything, who’s going to know?” Laura leaned in close, her voice a low whisper, like a devil tempting me to fall. “Joanne, your boyfriend is a great catch. You have to keep him on a tight leash. All men are the same. You need to let him know our family isn’t to be trifled with. That way, he won’t dare to bully you in the future.” She was actually trying to drive a wedge between Julian and me. In my last life, I had fallen for this nonsense. I thought that letting her get some “dirt” on Julian would make our future marriage more secure. I was so unbelievably stupid. “Laura, I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said, shaking my head firmly. Laura’s face darkened. “Joanne, what’s that supposed to mean? Are you refusing to help me?” She dropped the act, her true nature showing. “Don’t forget, your brother listens to everything I say. If you side with an outsider and piss me off, don’t expect your life at home to be easy.” It was a blatant threat. I sneered internally but put on a frightened expression, flinching slightly. “I… I’m not.” “Then do it!” Laura shoved my phone into my hand. “Tell him now! Say that I said if he’s willing to help, he can name his price!” I looked at the phone screen. I knew she had lost her patience. Fine. If you’re in such a hurry to die, I’ll give you a push. 4 I opened my chat with Julian, my finger hovering over the screen for a long moment. Then, I sent him a different message. 【Julian, listen carefully to every word I’m about to say. Something absurd is about to happen, but no matter what, I need you to trust me and play along.】 【We’re going to put on a show.】 After sending it, I immediately deleted the messages from my end. Then, I looked up. “Laura… why don’t you add him on your own? I really don’t know how to bring this up.” I had kicked the ball back into her court. Laura’s eyes lit up. This was exactly what she wanted. By taking charge herself, she could control the situation. “Fine,” she agreed, feigning reluctance. I sent her Julian’s contact card. She immediately sent a friend request. As I watched the “Friend request sent” notification on her screen, I knew the show was about to begin. On Julian’s end, he accepted almost instantly. I knew he had understood my message. After he accepted, Laura didn’t speak right away. Instead, she carefully scrolled through her social media photos, looking for the perfect one. She chose a maternity photo, professionally shot and edited to make her look slim, her pregnant belly the main focus, a beatific smile on her face. She wanted to make a good first impression. Only then did she send her first message. 【Dr. Leslie, hello. I’m Joanne’s sister-in-law, Laura.】 Julian replied quickly. 【Hello.】 Just one word. Cold and distant. Laura frowned, clearly not satisfied with this opening. She started to lay the groundwork. 【I just had a baby, but I haven’t been able to produce any milk. Joanne said you’re an expert in this area, and I was hoping to get some advice.】 【’Expert’ is a strong word. You can call me Julian. Joanne told me a bit about the situation. Postpartum lactation insufficiency has many potential causes and requires a comprehensive diagnosis.】 Julian’s reply was once again flawlessly professional. Laura was getting impatient. She felt this roundabout approach was too slow. So, she typed out a new line. 【I’ve heard that physical stimulation is the most effective method, is that right?】 【Yes, that is one of the clinically proven methods.】 【So… besides the baby suckling, is there a more… effective way?】 The dagger was drawn. I held my breath, watching Laura’s phone screen. I knew what was coming next. She was going to send the photo. And she did. She opened her photo album and selected a picture she had taken earlier. It was a close-up of her bare chest, no face visible, but more than enough to constitute sexual harassment. Before she hit send, she shot me a look, a smug, triumphant glint in her eye. As if to say, See? This is how easy it is to handle a man. I lowered my head, hiding the icy coldness in my eyes. The photo was sent. The room was terrifyingly silent. Laura stared at her phone, waiting for Julian’s reaction. She expected him to be shocked, flustered, maybe even play along and make some suggestive comment. That way, she would have her leverage. However, Julian’s reply was completely unexpected.

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Zoe and I were in the same car crash. But my boyfriend, the head of orthopedic surgery, shoved my hand away. “Lesley, stop being so dramatic! Zoe needs surgery, now!” And so, I was the one left to die. The day my skeleton was donated to Dr. Iain Shaw’s department, he locked himself in his office for a full day and night. After that, the most brilliant surgeon at Riverside General never held a scalpel again. 1 The lights in the hospital room swam before my eyes, a blurry, nauseating dance. Through the haze, I saw a figure in a white coat rush in. “Dr. Shaw,” a voice said, breathless. “We’ve got an opening in the OR. Who goes first?” I reached out, my fingers weakly pinching the corner of Iain’s coat. I tried to give it a tug, but he just glanced down at me, his brow furrowed. I couldn’t quite make out his expression. From the next bed, Zoe’s soft sobs started up again. “Iain… oh, Iain, am I going to be crippled? Will it leave a scar?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Iain pried my fingers off his coat. “Lesley, you just have a few scratches. A local anesthetic is all you’ll need. Zoe’s fracture is critical, can you please stop making a scene?” My head was spinning, a dizzying vortex of pain and confusion. I watched him turn all his attention to Zoe, his voice a gentle balm, without sparing me so much as a second glance. I tried to speak, but my lips felt heavy and useless. I’m not making a scene, Iain, I wanted to scream. I really can’t remember how Zoe got hurt. I never hurt her, why won’t you ever believe me? I can walk away, you know. I’m not that pathetic. …Iain, please, just look at me? But he was already motioning for the orderlies, helping them move Zoe’s gurney out of the room. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels echoed down the long, sterile corridor of the evening, each sound a nail driving into my ears. He never once looked back. 2 Beeeeeeep— As the heart monitor flatlined into a single, piercing tone, my soul untethered itself, drifting upward. I saw a nurse shout for the on-call doctor as she sprinted toward my room with the crash cart. A pang of guilt hit me. Sorry about that. I know the paperwork for a death report is a nightmare. Now you have to write another one because of me. Floating higher, I passed through the ceiling and into the operating room. Iain was just finishing his scrub, pulling on a pair of sterile gloves. After all our recent fighting, I finally had a moment to really look at the man I’d loved for seven years. Objectively, Iain Shaw was devastatingly handsome. It was the sharp, intense focus in his eyes as he made an incision during a university lab that had first captivated me, that had made me decide to pursue him. Who knew he came with a childhood sweetheart attached? I drifted behind him and poked at his back. “You know, I had plenty of guys after me, too. If you had just told me about her sooner, I wouldn’t have been so set on you.” He couldn’t hear me, of course. He turned, his gloved hands ready, and walked straight through my spectral form. The sensation sent a jolt through me. I almost shot back a sarcastic comment, but then my ghostly shoulders slumped. What was the point? He couldn’t hear me anyway. The heavy lead door swished open, and a circulating nurse entered, phone in hand. “Dr. Shaw, a call from downstairs. They’re in the middle of a code in your department. They’re asking if you want to come down.” Iain didn’t even pause as he tied his surgical gown. “Tell them to handle it. Can’t you see I’m scrubbed in?” I sighed. That was Iain for you. The surgery was his temple, and everything else was sacrilege. Still, I wished he’d make an exception today. After all, the person they were coding was me—his girlfriend. Then I glanced at Zoe’s pale face on the operating table, and my certainty wavered. Between a dead me and a living Zoe, it was anyone’s guess who mattered more to him. Zoe’s fracture was complex, and my resuscitation wasn’t going well. As Iain frowned, meticulously piecing together bone fragments, the lead door opened a second time. “Dr. Shaw, they’re on the line again. They’re requesting Dr. Peterson for an intubation on the code.” The OR was its own social hierarchy. A surgeon as skilled as Iain was always paired with the best, and Dr. Peterson was the top anesthesiologist in the hospital. As a disembodied soul, I could guess what that meant: my condition was critical, so they were calling in the big guns. But Iain refused again. “I don’t switch anesthesiologists mid-op.” Right. Of course. Zoe’s surgery was the most important thing in the world. More important than my life. I was starting to get angry. I floated in front of him and made a face. The third time the door opened, Zoe’s surgery was finally taking shape. “Dr. Shaw, they’ve been doing compressions for half an hour. They want to know if they should continue.” Iain slammed a surgical drill onto the instrument tray, his patience finally snapping. “Are you people clueless? Half an hour? Tell the family to make the call! If it were up to me, I’d stop right now!” I found myself nodding in grim agreement. A doctor couldn’t make that call; only next of kin could. From a purely medical standpoint, after thirty minutes of CPR, my chances were practically zero. Besides, who, other than your most beloved family, would exhaust every resource just for the slimmest hope of a miracle? 3 Zoe’s surgery finished in the dead of night. For some reason, I wasn’t following my own body. Instead, I found myself tethered to Iain, unable to move more than a few feet away from him. He seemed to have completely forgotten about me. He waited in the recovery room for two hours until Zoe was fully awake, then went with her back to her room. He personally lifted her onto the bed, fluffed her pillow, and waited for the nurse to hang her IV drip before he finally glanced toward my empty bed. “Where’s Lesley?” The nurse flinched, seemingly caught off guard by his calm demeanor. She chose her words carefully. “Her mother picked her up earlier this evening.” Iain just nodded, saying nothing more. A moment later, I saw him walk to the window and pull out his phone. The contact name on the screen read: “Wifey.” He hesitated, his long, elegant fingers hovering over the call button. Just as he was about to press it, Zoe’s voice came from behind him. She was sitting up in bed, her face pale, anxiously wringing her hands. “Iain,” she said, her voice thin and reedy, “maybe you should call Lesley… I’m sure she didn’t realize pushing me would hurt me this badly.” Iain froze. His gaze flickered to Zoe’s bandaged leg, a flash of anger in his eyes. Then, he navigated away from the call screen and put his phone away. He walked back to her bedside and gently stroked her hair, his voice once again a vessel of pure tenderness. “There’s no need. After what she did to you, she needs a few days to herself to think about what she’s done.” Excuse me? I wanted to laugh. If I could touch him, I would have kicked him right then and there. Wrong? What did I do wrong? I pushed her out of the way of a speeding motorcycle! I saved her life! Did he not see the gash on my head where I hit the pavement? The one that caused the fatal brain bleed? When I first woke up, the trauma made me forget. But now that I’m dead, I remember everything! But then, a wave of resignation washed over me. What good would it have done if I’d remembered then? He wouldn’t have believed me anyway. Iain stayed by Zoe’s bedside all night. The next morning, when he emerged from her room for rounds, the other staff members stared at him, exchanging uneasy glances. The resident he was closest with finally ventured a question. “Dr. Shaw… your girlfriend… aren’t you going to go see her?” Iain waved a dismissive hand, clearly annoyed at the mention of my name. “It doesn’t matter. It was nothing serious.” With the boss having spoken, no one else dared to say a word. But as they followed him on his rounds, I heard a young female intern mutter, “I never would’ve guessed. Dr. Shaw is completely heartless.” I floated beside her and smirked. Oh, he wasn’t heartless. Not at all. When the team arrived at Zoe’s room, Iain’s entire demeanor softened. His brow smoothed, and a gentle expression took over his features. “I’ll handle this patient’s dressing changes myself. A girl like her can’t have any scars.” I glanced back at the intern who had just criticized him. Her jaw was on the floor. See? Now you get it. When it came to Zoe, he was a completely different person. 4 My mother’s call came while Iain was peeling an apple for Zoe. Mom’s voice, crackling through the phone, sounded exhausted. It filled me with a dull ache. “Iain, aren’t you coming to see Lesley?” Iain set the knife down, his tone becoming much more respectful. “Auntie, Zoe’s leg is still broken, I can’t really leave her right now. You…” Suddenly, my mother’s voice became sharp, piercing. “She can’t be left alone? Then did you know that Lesley was pregnant? She was carrying your child!” Iain’s eyes widened. His hand tightened around the phone. Before he could speak, my mother’s voice broke into sobs. “What am I even saying this to you for? It doesn’t matter anymore… the person is gone… Iain, just stay with your precious Zoe! We’re done. Don’t ever contact us again.” The line went dead. I desperately wanted to dive into the phone, to tell my mom I was right here. I didn’t know how I’d left the hospital last night, but I knew she must be heartbroken. I tried to press the redial button on Iain’s phone, but my ghostly fingers passed through it again and again. A soul can’t cry. Mom, please don’t cry. I’m right here. Don’t fall apart. Iain was still frozen, clutching the phone. I wanted to shake him, to scream at him. Iain, are you an idiot? Call my mother back! Go see her! Is she okay? “What does she mean… gone?” He mumbled the words to himself, then, as if a switch had been flipped, he bolted from the room. He stormed into the doctors’ lounge and slammed his palm on the desk of Dr. Miller, the resident who had been on my resuscitation team. His voice trembled. “Miller, you were on duty last night. Did you treat Lesley’s injuries?” Dr. Miller looked up at Iain’s bloodshot eyes, stunned. “Dr. Shaw… you…” “I’m asking you, did she have a miscarriage?” Iain’s voice rose to a shout, startling the young doctor. “Dr. Shaw, my condolences… We didn’t even know she was pregnant until the very end…” Iain staggered back, all the strength seeming to drain from his body. He ripped off his white coat and turned to leave. I floated beside him, urging him on. Hurry up! Faster! Go check on my mom! The elevator arrived. I was ready to go in with him, but Iain just stood there, motionless. I followed his gaze. Zoe, somehow, had dragged her broken leg out of her room and was crawling on the floor toward him. It was over. We weren’t getting in that elevator. Sure enough, the doors closed and the elevator descended without him. Iain turned back, scooped Zoe into his arms, and carried her back to her bed. Zoe trembled in his embrace, her eyes glistening with tears. “Iain, did something happen to Lesley? I’m so sorry… I saw her buying abortion pills once… It’s all my fault… If my leg wasn’t broken, I would have told you sooner.” Zoe kept talking, but Iain had gone rigid. His eyes were red-rimmed as he sank back into the chair by her bed. He covered his face with his hands, and after a long moment, his voice came out, raw and hoarse.

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It was the parent-teacher day at my son’s school. Both mother and father were expected to attend. My husband never told me. He took his doctoral student instead. He said I was too busy with work and he didn’t want to bother me. For the sake of peace, I let it go. But today, my son, Leo, had an allergic reaction. I rushed to the hospital, only to find him lying there, his head resting in the doctoral student’s lap as he received an IV drip. After a call to the school, I learned the truth. Leo had secretly changed his emergency contact information. In the space for “Mother,” he had put the doctoral student’s name. And my husband, Theo, had approved it. In that moment, I just felt… tired. That night, I asked Theo for a divorce. He didn’t even look up from his papers. “Over an emergency contact?” “Yes.” 1 Theo rubbed his temples, a weary sigh escaping his lips. “Every time we argue, you bring up divorce. Can you just stop?” He was gathering files from his desk as he spoke. “I have to get to the lab. Can we talk about this when I get back?” His student, Sienna, was standing by the door, holding his coat. “Professor,” she said, her voice soft and deferential, “everyone is waiting for us.” She glanced at me, her expression a perfect mask of concern. “Ma’am, it’s a full group meeting today. It wouldn’t be good for the professor to be late.” They both spoke with an air of strained patience, as if I were the unreasonable one. Sienna’s phone buzzed. A message. She “accidentally” hit the speakerphone button. A loud, boisterous male voice filled the room. “Don’t tell me the professor is still being held hostage by his wife. Seriously, they should have divorced ages ago. Is she going through menopause or something? My vote is for Sienna to just take over. We’ll all chip in for a wedding gift!” I recognized the voice. It was Theo’s newest Ph.D. student. He’d been to our house for dinner. Sienna fumbled with her phone, her face flushing as she silenced it. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered. I looked straight at Theo. “Is that what your students say about me?” He sighed, a humorless laugh escaping him. “What, you expect me to control what other people say? If you keep this up, they’ll say worse.” He moved to walk past me, toward the door. It felt like a stone was pressing on my chest. I threw myself in front of the door, like a madwoman who had lost all reason. “Sign the divorce papers! Sign them now!” My shrill voice made Sienna flinch. Her face went pale, and she looked at Theo with an expression of pure, heartbreaking sympathy. Theo leaned against the wall, his head thudding softly against the doorframe in a gesture of utter exasperation. “Is this really necessary? All this, over an emergency contact?” he said, his voice strained. “I’ve already called the school and had them change it back.” “And the parent-teacher day… Leo is just more comfortable with Sienna. And you’re always so busy with work. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry, okay? It was my fault. I’m a terrible person. Are you happy now?” Sienna saw her opening and stepped forward, bowing respectfully. “Ma’am, I apologize as well. Please, don’t worry. Leo will always be your son. I could never take him from you.” The housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, hearing the argument, came upstairs. She’d been with Theo’s family for over a decade, practically one of them. “Now, Olivia,” she said, her tone chiding, “that’s enough. You’ve had your fit. Are you trying to drive Theo to an early grave?” I looked at them. The united front. It was as if they were all offering me a ladder to climb down from my high horse, and I was the one stubbornly refusing. But they were the ones who had pushed me up here. Theo and I met on a blind date. We were a good match on paper, and we married without much fanfare. But right after the wedding, my father was falsely accused of academic fraud and forced into a public apology. Overnight, he went from a titan in his field to a pariah. Theo’s parents were terrified my father’s scandal would ruin Theo’s career. They called me a jinx, a dead weight, and demanded we divorce. Then I got pregnant. They still insisted we live separately. When I went into labor, it was difficult. I nearly died bringing Leo into the world. The first thing I heard when I woke up was my mother-in-law’s disappointed voice. “She hemorrhaged that much and still didn’t die. What a tough one.” I fell into a deep postpartum depression. Using my “recovery” as an excuse, they took Leo to their estate to raise him. I begged them every day just to let me see my son. By the time I was well enough to have him back, Leo had learned to hate me, just like his grandparents did. He called me the “wicked witch,” said I was nothing more than the family housekeeper. He said I wasn’t worthy of being his mother. I tried everything to fix our relationship, but he met every overture with contempt. With Sienna, however, he was naturally affectionate. He didn’t want me at his parent-teacher day. He changed his emergency contact to her name. And Theo had allowed all of it. He’d even had the audacity to blame me for being too dramatic, too sensitive. This time, I was truly exhausted. I just wanted to escape this suffocating life. “Theo,” I said, my voice low and firm, “you’re not leaving this house until you sign these papers.” 2 I clung to Theo’s arm, refusing to let him go. “Olivia! Are you not happy until you’ve driven everyone insane?” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The next second, he exploded like a volcano. He kicked the coffee table, sending glass shattering across the floor. “Ah!” Sienna screamed, shrinking back in fear. Her scream seemed to shock Theo back to his senses. He rushed to her side, helping her up and pulling her behind him. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The apology was for her. Sienna shook her head, her eyes red-rimmed as she clutched his sleeve. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me…” she whispered. “The most important thing right now is to calm your wife down.” Just like that, Theo was calm again. He ordered Mrs. Gable to bring Leo downstairs. A moment later, Leo appeared, trembling at the top of the stairs. He was wearing only a thin pair of cartoon bear pajamas. He said, “Dad.” He said, “Auntie Sienna.” He didn’t even glance at me. I automatically reached for his coat, wanting to wrap it around his small shoulders. He flinched away from me in disgust. “You smell weird,” he sneered. “It’s gross. I’m not wearing your clothes.” He shot me a look of pure disdain and ran to Sienna. “Hey, sweetie, why are you wearing so little?” Sienna said, her voice dripping with affection. She took off her own coat and wrapped it around him, scooping him into her arms. “Auntie Sienna, you’re so nice,” Leo mumbled into her shoulder. “Not like some people… who just fight with Dad all the time…” Theo cleared his throat. “Leo, apologize to your mother. She’s upset because she didn’t get to go to your school event. If you don’t apologize, she’s going to leave us.” Leo’s eyes lit up. “Is the wicked witch finally leaving?” he chirped. “I’m not apologizing! Go on, get out! I want Auntie Sienna to be my mom!” It was like a knife twisting in my heart. Was this really the child I had nearly died to give birth to? Theo’s brow furrowed. “Don’t talk like that! Apologize to your mother, now!” Leo, stubborn like his father, just shook his head, his eyes turning red. “No! I hate her!” Even Theo couldn’t get through to him. It was Sienna who finally broke the stalemate. “Sweetie,” she cooed, “why don’t you apologize to your mom? As a little favor for Auntie Sienna, okay?” Leo bit his lip, hesitated for a moment, and then actually gave in. “Sorry,” he muttered. “There, you happy?” Theo let out a breath of relief. “See? He apologized. Now can you stop this drama? I’m giving you an out. Take it.” Just then, Sienna’s phone buzzed twice. She glanced at it and typed a quick reply. Then, Leo’s smartwatch buzzed twice. For the next two minutes, the phone and the watch buzzed back and forth. A sly, knowing smile played on Leo’s lips. He stole a glance at me. My stomach dropped. They were messaging each other. About me. It felt like a hand was closing around my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs. Without a word, I snatched the watch from Leo’s wrist. And there it was. A group chat. Just the three of them. The group name was “The Safe Harbor.” Leo: The wicked witch is so annoying! I hate her! Sienna: Leo, sweetie, you shouldn’t say bad things about your mommy~ But it breaks Auntie’s heart to see you so upset. Leo: Why doesn’t she just die? Then I could be with Auntie Sienna forever! Sienna: Leo, you should keep thoughts like that to yourself. If your mommy found out, she might spank you… Reading the last message, I started to tremble uncontrollably. Leo was flailing, trying to grab the watch back. “Wicked witch! Don’t touch my stuff!” His small fists pummeled my face, my neck. The watch slipped from my grasp and shattered on the floor. “You stupid witch!” Leo shrieked, his face red with fury. He picked up the broken watch and threw it at my head. A sharp pain, and then I felt something warm trickling down my temple. The broken screen had cut me. I shuddered, my limbs going numb. My heart seized in a painful knot. I pressed a hand to the wound, my voice surprisingly calm. “I’ll buy you a new one.” Leo wasn’t having it. He spat at me. “Get out! Get out!” He kept shoving me, pushing me away. Theo, seeing the blood, looked torn. “Leo, that’s enough.” He handed me a tissue. “You know, if your son isn’t close to you, maybe you should think about why. You’re so aggressive. Who could possibly like you?” He sighed. “He apologized. You should be satisfied.” I blinked back the stinging tears. “Sign the papers, Theo. I’m done.” 3 “Olivia! Don’t push your luck! It’s such a small thing! I had the entire family coddle you, and it’s still not enough?” I looked up at him and shook my head. The emptiness in my eyes seemed to startle him. “…You really want to divorce me?” “Yes,” I said, my voice firm. Theo laughed, a harsh, angry sound. “You’d better think this through. Everything you have, I gave to you. After the divorce, you’ll be nothing but a washed-up, second-hand woman that no one wants.” “You won’t get a penny of my money! And you can forget about custody of Leo!” He thought he was threatening me. He had no idea I no longer cared about any of it. I nodded calmly and pointed to the divorce agreement. “You should read it. Custody of Leo goes to you. I’m only taking the house my father left me before we were married. I don’t want anything else.” The hand holding the papers was trembling slightly. Sienna chose that moment to reappear, her eyes red. “Ma’am,” she began, her voice trembling, “this is all my fault. If you really can’t stand me, I can apply to switch advisors… You’re a family. I’m just an outsider. Please, don’t let me come between you.” “I can even leave this city, disappear from your lives forever. I just want the professor to be happy…” She bit her lip, on the verge of tears. Theo’s brow furrowed, his eyes filled with sympathy for her. Leo immediately jumped to her defense. “Auntie Sienna, you’re not an outsider! If you leave, I’m going with you!” He shot me a sly look and whispered in Sienna’s ear, “Dad won’t want to be without me. He’ll leave the wicked witch and come find us.” I heard every word. The irony was suffocating. “Theo, let’s get a divorce,” I said, my voice flat. “Do you really think this marriage has any meaning anymore?” “Ma’am, please don’t be impulsive,” Sienna pleaded. I couldn’t help myself. “Sienna, who do you think you are? And what’s with the Good Samaritan act? You’re dying for us to get divorced so you can move in. Stop the performance.” “Olivia!” Theo was shaking with rage. He pulled Sienna protectively behind him. “You can take your anger out on me, but leave innocent people out of it.” Just a moment ago, he had refused to sign, no matter what I said. Now, just because I had said a few words to Sienna, he snatched up a pen and scrawled his name across the papers. It was laughable. “There! I hope you don’t regret this,” he snarled, throwing the papers in my face. The sharp edge stung my cheek. Then, dead silence. I crouched down and picked up the scattered pages. I straightened them, kept one copy, and left the other for him. “Thank you,” I said. “Don’t you have a meeting? You should go. Don’t be late.” He stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if he couldn’t understand my calmness. Under his stunned gaze, I went back to the bedroom. My bags had been packed for two weeks. I pulled out my suitcase and handed a gift-wrapped box to Leo. “Your birthday is next month. This is for you. It’s the Barcelona Bear you wanted.” “I don’t want it!” he pouted, rolling his eyes at me. He snatched the box and marched over to the fireplace. With a final, defiant glare, he tossed the bear into the flames. The fire swallowed it whole. “Auntie Sienna will buy me one!” he declared. I felt nothing. “Fine. Do what you want.” I turned and walked toward the door, Theo’s cold words chasing me. “The moment you walk out that door, Leo has nothing to do with you! He will never call you ‘Mom’ again!” “And don’t think for a second I’ll ever come crawling back! I’ll be glad to be rid of the dead weight!” His voice grew more frantic. I knew he was trying to make me back down. I just waved a hand over my shoulder, a lightness spreading through my chest. “Whatever.” “I don’t want him as my son anymore anyway. And as for you, I’ve had enough.” I didn’t slow my pace. I walked out of that house, out of that life filled with pain and bitter memories. I was finally free.

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One text message was all it took for me to divorce my wife. It was six in the morning when Gwen came home from another all-nighter at the office. Weighed down by exhaustion, she still remembered to bring me a bouquet of flowers. She placed the roses on my nightstand and leaned in, as she always did, to kiss my forehead. But this time, I gently pushed her away. And I asked for a divorce. Gwen stared at me, her face a mask of disbelief. “What? Why? Because I worked too late again?” I shook my head. “No,” I said. “It’s because of the text you sent me at five a.m.” 1. The message was short. Just three words. I love you, honey. The time stamp was 5:07 a.m. The location tag was her office building. When I first saw it, a stupid, happy grin spread across my face. I was about to type back when a line I’d seen online somewhere flashed through my mind. When someone comes home from a cat café, they feel guilty, so they bring their own cat a can of tuna. A cheater does the same thing. After a secret rendezvous, they’ll send an ‘I love you’ to the one at home. I wanted to believe Gwen would never cheat. She loved me. She loved me so much that she’d throw her own body in front of me to shield me from harm. She was a workaholic, so buried in her job she’d forget to eat or drink. A woman like that wouldn’t cheat. She didn’t have the time. That’s what I told myself. But my hand had a mind of its own, already scrolling through her social media. Her private messages, her work chat, even her online shopping history. Everything was normal. Until, at six a.m., I noticed a new follow. A new intern at her company. Evan. Gwen had mentioned him a few times, always complaining. Said he was clumsy and dumb, couldn’t do anything right. At 5:00 a.m., Evan had posted a new picture to his feed. The caption read: Nothing more romantic than watching the sunrise with the one you love after a… vigorous workout. The early morning light fell across his handsome, youthful face. A pale, delicate hand was wrapped around his waist. If that hand hadn’t been wearing the wedding ring I gave Gwen, I might have even found myself thinking, to be young and in love. In that moment, I already had my answer. But eight years of history screamed at me to deny it, to look away. I kept digging, desperate to find some clue, some small detail that would prove this was all a misunderstanding. They say a lover scorned is the best detective. I used the GPS data from her car, the activity logs on her fitness app, even her fuel consumption records. I pieced together her entire night. At 7:00 p.m., Gwen told me she was working late, driving to meet a client. At 8:00 p.m., the meeting went south. She drove back to the office to rework the proposal. At 3:00 a.m., Gwen took Evan to a five-star hotel near her office. At 5:00 a.m., they were finished. A satisfied Evan posted his philosophical musings to the world. And a guilty Gwen sent me that text. Just like the saying went. The owner, back from the cat café, felt bad for her own little cat and opened a can of tuna. Gwen, back from her tryst, felt a pang of guilt and sent me an “I love you.” The bouquet of roses on my nightstand was my can of tuna. 2. When the truth settled in, it was a storm of pain, rage, and denial. I thought about just pretending I hadn’t seen it. About continuing our life together as if nothing had happened. After all, we’d been together for eight years. We had two beautiful children. But the moment Gwen walked through that door, the moment I smelled the sharp, foreign scent of men’s cologne clinging to her clothes, I knew. I couldn’t swallow this lie. And I couldn’t live with a woman who could betray me at any moment. So the word “divorce” tumbled out of my mouth, stripped of all sentiment. Gwen, oblivious, just frowned at me. She rubbed her temples and collapsed onto the sofa, completely unconcerned. “Leo, can you not be so dramatic? I’ve been working all day. I’m exhausted.” Normally, I would have been there to rub her shoulders, to bring her breakfast. Instead, I calmly opened Evan’s social media profile and held the phone out for her to see. His feed was a shrine to her. Dozens of posts. A silhouette of them walking hand-in-hand on a beach at sunset. A photo of their fingers intertwined in a hot spring. There were no faces, but after all these years, I knew her hands, her posture, her every line. I knew it was Gwen. And then there were the gifts. Countless flowers and luxury goods. The most recent post was from just ten minutes ago. Evan, grinning in a field of flowers, holding up a peace sign. A limited-edition Richard Mille watch glittered on his wrist. The caption: Who says guys can’t get flowers? My boss-girlfriend spoils me rotten. That’s when I snapped. I grabbed the bouquet she’d brought me, the one already starting to wilt, and hurled it at her face. “Did you think I’d be grateful for your hand-me-downs? For the flowers he didn’t want?” I screamed, my voice raw. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you just because you hid your face? I’m not a fool, Gwen! And I don’t want your garbage!” A thorn scraped a thin, red line across her cheek. The sting on her face and the fear in her heart ignited into fury. She stared at me for a long moment, then lunged, grabbing my wrist. She ripped the watch—my watch—from my arm and shoved it in my face. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me!” she spat. “Look around you! Everything you eat, everything you wear, every single thing you own was bought with my money! Do you think you could afford a watch like this without me?” Her voice dripped with contempt. “My job is stressful. I need to blow off steam sometimes. So what? I came home, didn’t I? If you have so much damn integrity, then get the hell out of my house with nothing but the clothes on your back!” The sharp edge of the watch case dug into my skin. Bright red drops of blood pattered onto the carpet. I looked at her, at the scene, and a bitter, hysterical laugh escaped me. This watch was her wedding gift to me. I remembered that day so clearly. She had kissed the back of my hand, her voice thick with emotion. “Leo,” she’d said, “thank you for being with me on this journey. I promised I’d give you the world one day. And now, I finally can.” Back then, I thought I was the luckiest man alive. Now I knew the truth. I was just the little cat in the story. Eating someone else’s leftovers, wearing a watch someone else didn’t want, and purring, thinking I was loved. The rage brought tears to my eyes, but what little pride I had left wouldn’t let me back down. I shoved her toward the door. “You have no right to throw me out!” I roared. “This house is mine! It was my property before we ever got married. If anyone’s leaving, it’s you! Without me, you wouldn’t have any of this! You think you can kick me out to make room for your boy toy? Dream on!” In the struggle, her blouse ripped open. The angry red marks blooming across her collarbone were an axe, splitting our lives in two. She saw the guilt in my eyes and frantically tried to pull her shirt closed. She opened her mouth to explain, then stopped. Her gaze fell on the family photo on the wall. A picture of the four of us. She pushed me away, a cold, cruel smile twisting her lips. “Who are you to ask for a divorce?” she sneered. “In this entire world, who else would want a broken thing like you? A man who killed his own son?” The words sucked the air from my lungs. That wound, the one I never spoke of, the one that never healed, was ripped open once more. Raw and bleeding. I stood there, frozen, the pain so immense I couldn’t even speak. A look of pure satisfaction crossed Gwen’s face. She muttered “pathetic,” and slammed the door behind her. And I finally broke. I collapsed amidst the wreckage of our life and sobbed. A small, timid voice cut through my grief. 3. My daughter, Maddie, stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed rabbit, her eyes wide with fear. “Daddy? Did you and Mommy have a fight?” she whispered. “Are you going to split up? Is Mommy coming home?” Seeing the terror in her eyes was like a knife twisting in my gut. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. Daddy scared you.” My voice was thick. “Go back to bed. I’ll take you to school in a little bit.” Maddie shook her head, her gaze fixed on my phone, still lying on the floor. After a long hesitation, she tugged on my sleeve. “Daddy… I’ve seen that man before.” Her voice was barely audible. “A long, long time ago. On the day Owen died…” “What did you say?” The world stopped. My eyes widened. “Maddie, what do you know? Tell Daddy. What happened that day?” She shrank back, pure terror in her young eyes. Then she burst into tears and threw herself into my arms, her small body wracked with sobs. “That day… Mommy brought that man home,” she stammered between gasps. “She said they were going to play a game, and Owen and I weren’t allowed to bother them. The man gave us chocolate… with stuff inside… and locked us in the bedroom.” “Owen ate his and then he started saying his tummy hurt… and then he just… he fell down and didn’t move.” “I was so scared, Daddy! I banged on the door and screamed for Mommy, but she was playing her game with the man and she wouldn’t… she wouldn’t come out!” “And then… and then Owen was gone. Mommy said it was our secret. She said I could never tell anyone. If I told, she said she wouldn’t want me anymore…” Her voice dissolved into heartbreaking sobs. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m not a bad girl for lying. I was just so scared…” I was frozen. I didn’t know how to react. It felt like a blade was churning inside me, shredding my organs. Owen’s death was the great, defining tragedy of our lives. Two years ago, a client had demanded a last-minute meeting. It was a crucial contract for the company. I had no choice but to leave Owen and Maddie with a babysitter and go. When I came back, the babysitter was gone. The apartment was silent, except for Maddie’s hysterical crying. Owen was on the floor, his body already stiff. The doctors said he’d had a severe allergic reaction to the alcohol in a liqueur chocolate. If he’d been brought in just ten minutes earlier, he could have been saved. The shock of it killed my mother; she had a massive heart attack and died a week later. My mother-in-law directed all her grief and fury at me. She’d cornered me at the funeral, her hands around my neck, slapping me over and over. She screamed “murderer” at me. “You worthless bastard! How could you leave two small children alone? Are you even human?” “You knew Owen was allergic to alcohol! Why would you buy those chocolates? Did you do it on purpose? Did you want to kill my grandson?” “You’re a murderer! A monster! I want you to pay for my grandson’s life!” Her relatives had joined in, kicking and punching me. In that moment of chaos, Gwen had arrived. She threw herself in front of me without hesitation, a lioness protecting her mate. “Owen’s death was an accident!” she’d roared at them all. “It wasn’t Leo’s fault. And as long as I’m here, you will not touch him.” That day, Gwen was my hero. My shield against the world. Afterward, she took me to therapy. She held my hand as I clawed my way out of the darkness of Owen’s death. But the trauma left its mark. I couldn’t work. I couldn’t function. I had nightmares every night. I was terrified something would happen to Maddie. Gwen suggested I quit my job and stay home to take care of our daughter. After much thought, I gave up the career I had fought for and became a stay-at-home dad. Maddie was a sweet, wonderful child. And Gwen, despite her long hours, treated me with respect and love. For years, despite the lingering sorrow, I had felt a quiet gratitude. I had found a partner I could trust, a family that was, for the most part, happy. I never, ever imagined she would one day use Owen’s death as a weapon against me. And I never imagined that her affair had been the thing that killed him. She had pushed all the blame onto me. She had built my prison out of guilt, locking me away at home while she lived her life. She had destroyed my family. She had destroyed my life. The wave of pain receded, leaving numbness in its wake. I closed my eyes, my despair a bottomless pit. I gently stroked Maddie’s back. “It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t be afraid.” I told her I would never, ever blame her. And I told myself, with a terrifying clarity: I will make Gwen and Evan pay.

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Father hired two retired mercenaries as bodyguards. The younger one, steel-eyed, only had eyes for my sister. I got Allen—his hearing impaired, body trembling from neurotoxin damage. I chose him, unable to bear him becoming a training dummy for recruits. When his pain flared, I soothed his muscles through sleepless nights. Took him to specialists weekly, though he never thanked me. When he couldn’t protect me, I trained myself instead, begging Father not to send him away. I told myself war had broken him. That my care could fix him. Then came the lab explosion. He ripped the gas mask from my hands. “Rose needs this more,” he rasped. As smoke swallowed me, his last words were: “Next life, I’ll repay you.” That’s when I knew—his silence wasn’t trauma. It was a wall built just for me. I woke back in that sunlit room, the morning we chose our guards. … I stared at the two brothers before me, the silence stretching. My sister, Rose, bit her lip, her gaze flickering nervously toward me. “Oh, Nina… maybe I should take Allen? You’re so delicate, you really need someone strong like Finn to protect you.” As she spoke, she took a tiny, deliberate step away from Finn and closer to Allen. The big, cold-shouldered man instantly went rigid, a flash of pure panic in his eyes. I remained silent, the memories of my first life crashing over me like a tidal wave. Last time, after Rose and Finn had all but chosen each other, I’d been caught in the same hesitation. And just like now, Rose had suddenly offered up the stronger brother, framing it as a sacrifice for my sake. Looking at her now, her face a perfect mask of concern, I remembered how I’d genuinely believed she was looking out for me. I’d been a fool, so sure of her goodness that I’d stubbornly refused. I didn’t want my little sister to be saddled with a burden, and I couldn’t stomach the thought of the frail-looking Allen being sent back to a place that would surely kill him. A decision that led to my death in a burning laboratory, where Rose, feigning reluctance, accepted the gas mask that both my bodyguards had ripped from me. Her chosen guard, Finn, had a perfect score in hazardous environment training. She had an emergency auto-injector of the antidote right there in her purse. But she’d only made a few token protests before accepting her prize. That was always her way. She knew I couldn’t stand to see anyone sacrifice for me, that I would always be the one to step back. She got what she wanted and the reputation of a saint for it. But not this time. “Fine,” I said, my voice calm and even. “Let Allen be your guard.” The self-satisfied smile waiting to bloom on Rose’s face froze solid. She wasn’t the only one stunned. Both brothers snapped their heads up, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous!” my father’s voice boomed, directed at Rose. “You are the heir to Leech Enterprises. Your safety is paramount. This man is a liability; he can’t even take care of himself. How can he possibly protect you?” A small, knowing smile touched my lips. So, Father knew the full extent of Allen’s condition. This whole selection process was just for show. But then… Rose’s tense shoulders visibly relaxed. She was just about to conjure up a tear when a voice, rough from disuse but clear, cut through the tension. “I’m fit for duty.” My head shot up. The man who hadn’t spoken a single word to me in five years in my past life was now speaking? My eyes met his. They were weary, haunted, but lucid. And in that moment, I knew. He remembered. He remembered everything. So much for repaying his debt in the next life. He’d come back just as terrified of being stuck with me as he was the first time. Too bad for him. This time, I had no intention of choosing him anyway. “My combat readiness can be tested, sir,” Allen continued, his voice steady. I didn’t doubt his skills for a second. After I died, my spirit had watched him take on three armed thugs to save Rose, his combat knife a silver blur as he slit their throats with chilling precision. The irony was bitter. I’d spent years training in martial arts just so Father wouldn’t discard him like a broken tool. As expected, when he dropped the facade of weakness, it was over in five seconds. A blur of motion, a sharp crack, and our top combat instructor was flat on his back, gasping for air with Allen’s boot on his chest. The tension in my father’s face eased. The budding tears in Rose’s eyes vanished without a trace. To be fair, Allen was handsomer than his brother. If not for the poison and the hearing damage, Rose would have picked him from the start. “Very well,” Father declared. “Allen will be assigned to you. Finn, you’ll protect Nina.” At the final assignment, Finn’s gaze swept over me. When it fell to my legs—useless, twisted things hidden beneath a cashmere blanket—a flicker of undisguised revulsion crossed his face. Suddenly, he dropped to one knee. “Sir, I request a transfer. Back to the compound.” Father’s face darkened. “A seven-figure salary isn’t enough to keep you? You’d rather go back there to die?” Finn didn’t even try to hide it. He deliberately looked away from my wheelchair. “I’m not qualified to protect Miss Leech.” A bitter smile played on my lips. The injury I’d gotten at twelve, saving Rose from being run over, was still the stain I could never wash away. Allen’s coldness in my past life suddenly made a lot more sense. “Finn! How could you say that to my sister!” Rose cried, rushing to his side and striking his shoulder with a trembling hand. When Finn looked up at her, his eyes were blazing with a raw, fierce emotion. “I only came here for one person.” The room fell silent. I let out a soft, humorless laugh. Rose quickly suppressed her triumphant smile, hitting his shoulder again, a little more theatrically this time. “Don’t say things like that! I won’t let you go back!” “Why make things difficult?” I said, my fingers tracing the armrest of my wheelchair. “Rose can just have them both.” Rose’s cheeks flushed. “Nina… what are you saying?” The Leech brothers were undeniably handsome. From the moment they had entered the room, Rose’s gaze had been stuck to them like glue. Father considered it for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t want a guard?” “I’m sure. I don’t want them. Either of them.” Both brothers looked at me then. I could see the question in their eyes, wondering what gave me the right to be so dismissive. Allen’s stare was particularly intense, a storm of emotions I couldn’t begin to decipher. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t be bothered. “Then what about your safety?” Father asked. “Then I suppose I’m not safe,” I admitted, meeting his gaze without flinching. He was clearly taken aback. “In that case, Father,” I continued, “why don’t you send me to work with my uncle? He has more than enough security personnel.” In my past life, all my energy had been poured into Allen. I’d missed every opportunity, every shift in the family’s corporate landscape. My situation and my sister’s were worlds apart. Father always said he loved us equally, but the stock distribution documents only ever had two names on them: Rose and my uncle. While my uncle was conquering markets overseas, growing the family fortune exponentially, Rose’s annual dividends were enough to buy an entire financial district. Meanwhile, I had to grovel with the finance department just to get approval for Allen’s specialized medication. If I wanted to change my fate, I had to get in the game myself. My uncle, who rarely saw his forgotten niece, was dismissive. His secretary assigned me to a dead-end department and left me there. I didn’t complain. I didn’t fight. I just quietly built my own little kingdom. The business acumen I’d never had a chance to use in my past life flourished, surprising even myself. After I landed the toughest multinational contract on the books, my uncle summoned me to his office for the first time. He threw me a belated welcome party and handed me control of the entire Asia-Pacific division. The company was on the verge of going public; even if he favored Rose, he needed my skills right now. Soon, the whispers in the business world began to change. My name was being mentioned alongside Rose’s—the “Jewel of Leech Enterprises.” One evening, returning to the family estate, Rose intercepted me on the veranda. “You’re making a lot of noise, Nina,” she said, her voice a sweet poison. I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been everywhere lately, schmoozing at every event. I’m not trying to be a wet blanket, sister, but a lucky streak doesn’t make you a player. If you stumble, you’ll tarnish the Leech name.” She paused, her eyes darting toward Allen, who stood a few feet away. “Besides, with all this attention on… you… what respectable man would ever propose?” Her gaze lingered meaningfully on my wheelchair. “I think it’s time you stopped bothering Uncle. From now on, I’ll take you to the parties.” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “Are you jealous I’m stealing your spotlight?” Her pupils contracted. “Let me ask you something, Rose. In what capacity are you telling me to stand down? As the official heir? The youngest member of the board?” I leaned forward. “No matter what happens, you benefit the most. So where do you get the nerve to tell me to sit down and be quiet?” “Nina, how could you…” Her eyes instantly filled with tears. I cut off her performance with a glacial stare. “And since you brought up my legs, maybe we should talk about that ‘accident’ when I was twelve.” Her face went pale. “I shoved you out of the way of that car, didn’t I? But tell me, who was it that gave me that final, decisive shove, right into the path of the wheels?” Rose stumbled back, her trembling fingers pressed to her lips. “Don’t give me that look. You’re not the one who ended up crippled for life.” I began to turn my wheelchair to leave. “Go on, keep being the Jewel of Leech Enterprises.” She crumpled to the marble floor, a perfect picture of wounded innocence, her tears splashing onto the polished stone. “No, sister… it wasn’t like that… I was so scared…” she sobbed. “How can you think I’m so evil…” “Enough!” Finn strode forward, scooping her into his arms. “That’s enough, Nina,” he growled, his voice dangerously disrespectful. “You’ve gone too far!” Rose immediately clung to his shirt, her voice trembling. “Finn, don’t… I’m fine… really…” The words were barely out before her whole body started to shake. A flicker of pain crossed Allen’s face. He looked directly at me. “You should apologize.” I almost laughed out loud. He just stood there, waiting. The slap echoed in the hallway. Rose gasped, throwing herself in front of him. “Nina! How could you hit him!” I slowly lowered my stinging hand. “You might want to teach your pet some manners, Rose. Before he forgets who signs his checks.” “You—” Finn’s fists clenched, his knuckles cracking. Allen touched his own reddening cheek, his expression one of pure, unadulterated shock. I spun my wheelchair around and left them there, not giving them a chance to say another word. I had planned to pack my bags and move into the corporate apartment, to get away from this toxic swamp for good. But the next morning, my bedroom door splintered off its hinges. Finn burst in, and before I could even process what was happening, he was dragging me violently from my bed. “Rose has been kidnapped! You’re coming with me, now!” In a flash, I had the handgun from the hidden compartment in my wheelchair. I pressed the cold muzzle to his temple. “Move, and you’re dead.” “And for the record,” I hissed, “her being kidnapped has nothing to do with me!” “Still lying!” Finn’s eyes were bloodshot, crazed. He hadn’t slept. “If it wasn’t for the vicious things you said yesterday, she never would have driven off in the middle of the night! The kidnappers want to trade. This is your chance to atone for what you did!” The door was thrown open again and Allen rushed in, his face ashen. He looked up at the second floor. “Did you find her?” Finn yanked on my collar. “The kidnappers agreed to a swap.” His voice was low and menacing. “You started this. You’re going to finish it.” “You’re asking to die,” I snarled, slamming the butt of my gun into his face. His eyebrow split open, blood welling instantly. “A hired goon dares to lay a finger on me?” The blow dazed him, but it only made his eyes more feral. “With all due respect, Miss Leech, you don’t have a choice in this.” His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist in a vice grip. “For Rose, we’ll take the punishment later! Allen! Restrain her!” Against Finn, my marksmanship gave me a fighting chance. Against Allen, I had none. With a deafening clang, my gun was on the floor and I was slammed back into my wheelchair. Allen’s combat boots filled my vision. I struggled, thrashed, but I was no match for the two of them. I looked up, my last shred of hope fixed on him. “Allen… don’t do this… please…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He turned his face away. “I’m sorry.” Click. The sound of the magazine being ejected from my gun was the sound of my world ending. I was completely at their mercy. On the way to the drop point, Allen himself stood guard over me. “You came back, too,” he said suddenly. A mocking smile twisted my lips. “And you’re still just as cruel to me.” He was silent for a moment. Then, his voice was a low rasp. “I owe you.” SLAP. I struck him again, with all the force I could muster. “Two lifetimes, and your apologies are still this cheap.” His head snapped to the side, his hair falling over his eyes. I could only hear his voice, low and strained. “I swear, this is the last time.” He grabbed my wrist, his grip painfully tight. “We trade you for her. The debt from our last life will be paid.” His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “After this, I’ll protect you. I’ll spend the rest of my life protecting you, I swear.” I turned my head away and scoffed. His knuckles went white as he squeezed my wrist harder. “This is all for show,” he insisted. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” The exchange was set for an abandoned shipyard. The moment I passed Rose, she suddenly stumbled, lurching forward with a cry. “Allen! Finn!” My head whipped around. Allen was the first to move, crossing the distance in a heartbeat to catch her. Finn was right behind him, expertly slicing the ropes from her wrists. Allen’s arms were wrapped around her so tightly his knuckles were white, his whole body trembling. I could just make out the shape of his words as he buried his face in her hair. “I’m so sorry… I failed you… I let you suffer…” A strange, dull ache bloomed in my chest. I had warned myself not to hope, not to expect anything. The rough scrape of rope against my skin broke my trance. Before I could even make a sound, a strip of cold, sticky tape was slapped across my mouth.

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My prized, one-of-a-kind bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, valued at over three million dollars, showed up on Liam Carter’s Instagram feed. In the photo, the fresh-faced graduate assistant held up a glass, the caption a glaringly arrogant taunt: “Thanks for the love, Ms. Vance. The professor said this bottle could buy a condo downtown~” I sent a single text to my wife, Ava. “You have two hours to get that bottle back here. Or you’ll face the consequences.” Ava left me on read. Two hours later, I stared at my phone screen, my finger hovering over the “Report Crime” button for a full three seconds. A sudden commotion erupted at the charity gala I was monitoring remotely. Through the security feed, I watched as Liam Carter was slammed against a champagne tower by the police, expensive champagne soaking his borrowed designer suit. If they wouldn’t listen to reason, I’d have to teach them a lesson in a language they’d understand. 1 “Brendan Sterling! You called the cops on Liam?” Ava’s voice preceded her into the house, sharp and furious. Her Chanel handbag hit the entryway wall, the metal clasp leaving a dent. I didn’t even flinch. “Your two hours are up.” “He’s my assistant!” Ava kicked off her heels, her voice rising to a shriek. “He just got a letter of recommendation from his professor!” “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve ruined him!” “Brendan, how could you be so vicious?” “Grand larceny. The value exceeds three million,” I said, turning to face her, my expression calm. “Have you ever read the penal code, Ava?” Suddenly, she snatched the crystal decanter from the coffee table. The twelve-thousand-dollar piece of art shattered at my feet, red wine bleeding across my slippers like blood. “There are over three hundred bottles in our cellar. What’s the big deal if I give one to Liam?” Her nails dug into her palms. “His mentor is the chairman of the awards committee. Do you know how much effort I put in to—” “He’s just a kid from a small town, trying to make it in the city. I was just trying to help him.” “Brendan, when did you become so cold-hearted?” “Help him?” I let out a cold laugh. “Anyone who didn’t know better would think he was your lover. This city is flooded with small-town graduates every year. Life isn’t easy for any of them.” “If you’re so charitable, Ms. Vance, why don’t you sell off Vance Industries and start a foundation dedicated to helping small-town kids?” “You’re being unreasonable, Brendan.” My words left her speechless, her face flushing with anger. “Last year. On this day,” I said, ignoring her and pulling up a photo on my phone. “Our third wedding anniversary. I waited for you at Lakeside Grill for five hours. You were at his thesis defense, cheering him on.” A condescending smirk touched Ava’s lips. “Brendan, are you really jealous of that?” “It was Liam’s patent defense. I went to support him. It was just an anniversary, Brendan. We can celebrate it any year.” I was rendered speechless by her audacity. I swiped to the next photo. A Cartier box gleamed beside a celebratory cake. “For his patent party, you baked a cake and bought him a watch.” “For my birthday, you gave me expired grocery store coupons. Ava, tell me, who is your husband? Me, or Liam Carter?” “Do you need another watch?” Ava tilted her head back, her face a mask of impatience. “Brendan, you’re thirty years old. Are you going to squabble with a child?” “No,” I said, a slow smile spreading across my face. “I’m not going to squabble.” “That’s why I’m sending him straight to prison.” “Brendan!” Ava’s earrings danced as she breathed heavily. She grabbed her car keys. “I don’t have time to argue with you. I’m going to get him. My lawyer will talk to you tomorrow.” “A friendly reminder,” I said, toying with the business card of my contact at the police department. “If he gets out before sunrise, I will have to seriously reconsider whether our marriage has any future at all.” “Are you threatening me?” The doorframe trembled under her fist. “You’re the one who pushed it too far,” I said calmly. “I’ve tolerated your behavior time and time again, but you refuse to show any restraint.” “Fine. Just fine,” Ava roared. “Brendan, I am so disappointed in you.” With that, she stormed out of the house. 2 Ava didn’t come home that night. I had an early surgery the next day, so I went to bed without waiting for her. I woke up to a firestorm on social media. #VANCEINDUSTRIESCEOSECRETRENDEZVOUSWITHYOUNGLOVER The photos were crystal clear. Liam Carter, getting out of Ava’s Porsche. Another, even more damning photo showed Ava holding his hand as they walked into a hotel. The bitter irony was that the hotel was one of my family’s properties. A cold smile touched my lips. I dialed my lawyer. “Draft the divorce papers. Now.” My marriage to Ava was never a simple love match. It was a strategic alliance. I am the sole heir to the Sterling fortune. But I have no interest in business. My passion is medicine. I only ever wanted to be a doctor. After much negotiation with my parents, we agreed on a solution: I would marry a capable woman from a suitable family, and she would help me manage the Sterling empire. Our future children would one day inherit it. Ava was the chosen one. Though her family’s company, Vance Industries, was leagues below ours, I was drawn to her. She was smart, ambitious, and ruthless. Under her leadership, the market value of her family’s company had doubled in three years. When we married, everyone called it a power merger. Even I believed it. It’s why I tolerated so much of her drama with Liam Carter. But I draw the line at betrayal. Just then, my phone rang. It was Ava’s father. “Brendan, my boy, I saw the news. Don’t overthink it. It’s just tabloid nonsense, I’m sure.” “Ava, that girl… she can be stubborn, but she would never do something like cheating.” “Don’t worry. I’ll make her explain everything. I’ll make sure you get a proper explanation!” Two hours later, Ava’s parents dragged her through my door. Her face was a thunderous mask of rage. She stormed towards me, yelling, “Brendan Sterling! Did you plant that story in the press?” I sat on the sofa, not even bothering to look up. “What do you think?” “You’re despicable!” Her face contorted with a hysterical fury. “Is this how you get what you want, Brendan? By stooping to these disgusting tactics?” She lunged for the ashtray on the coffee table and hurled it at me. It grazed my forehead and shattered against the wall behind me. Her father’s face went pale with shock. He slapped her, hard. “Are you insane? Brendan is your husband! What is wrong with you?” Ava clutched her cheek, staring at her father in disbelief. “Dad, you hit me? This is his—” Her eyes welled with tears. I shot them a cold glance and stood up. “Let’s not make this more complicated than it needs to be. Just sign the papers.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang. My lawyer stood on the doorstep, holding a folder. “Mr. Sterling, the divorce agreement is ready.” Ava’s head snapped towards me, her eyes wide with shock. “Divorce agreement? Brendan, you want to divorce me?” I took the papers and tossed them onto the coffee table. “Sign.” 3 Ava stared at the divorce papers, her fingers trembling. “I won’t sign.” She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. “Brendan, it was just one stupid bottle of wine. You’re going to divorce me over a bottle of wine?” “If you’re angry, I’ll pay you back. I’ll buy you ten bottles, twenty! Just… let’s not get a divorce, okay?” I looked at her tear-streaked face, and for the first time, felt nothing. “Ava, that bottle was one-of-a-kind. It was a gift from my parents for my doctoral graduation.” “I told you the story behind it.” Besides medicine, I have one other passion: winemaking. And that bottle was the final creation of my favorite master vintner. There would never be another one like it in the world. I had told Ava this in our first year of marriage, explicitly warning her never to touch it. “Brendan, I’m sorry.” Ava’s face went rigid. “I… I really messed up.” “I know I was wrong. Please, just forgive me this one time?” Her voice was low, laced with a desperation I’d never heard before. Her father quickly jumped in. “Brendan, Ava was just being foolish.” “You two are still young. Every couple has their disagreements. You make up and move on. Just give her another chance. She’ll learn her lesson this time, I promise.” I let out a cold laugh. “You think a simple ‘I’m sorry’ can erase everything you’ve done?” “Don’t worry, Brendan, we’ll deal with that Liam Carter situation too,” her father added, shooting Ava a pointed look. Ava caught his cue and grabbed my hand. “I’ll transfer Liam to a branch office immediately. I’ll never see him again.” “Brendan, let’s not get a divorce. Please?” Her tears fell onto the back of my hand, her grief genuine. My resolve softened. “This is the last time.” Seeing me relent, Ava wiped her face and immediately called her company’s HR department. Right in front of me, she arranged for Liam to be transferred. For the next two weeks, Ava was a changed woman. She came home on time every day, tying on an apron to busy herself in the kitchen. “Try this,” she said, placing a piece of sweet and sour pork in my bowl. “I spent all afternoon learning how to make it.” I looked up at her. There was a smudge of flour on her forehead, and her eyes were filled with a cautious hope. “It’s good,” I said, and went back to eating. When I was on call at the hospital over the weekend, she showed up with an insulated lunch box. “Dr. Sterling, your wife is here again?” a nurse teased. Ava laid out the food and handed me a freshly brewed coffee. “Your stomach is sensitive. Don’t drink that instant stuff from the hospital,” she said softly. I watched her bustling around, and the divorce papers in my desk drawer began to gather dust. 4 Life returned to normal, and my career quietly reached a new milestone. I was selected to join a team of experts for an international medical conference abroad. It was a huge opportunity. When I told Ava, she was supportive, helping me pack. On the last day of the conference, I received a shocking text message. It was from the head nurse of the cardiology department at my hospital. Nurse Davis: Dr. Sterling, could you please talk to your mother? She’s being very difficult with the on-duty nurses. Nurse Davis: Our department is already swamped, and most of our patients are elderly. The staff can’t dedicate all their time to just one person. You’re a doctor, you understand. Please, ask her to be more considerate. I froze. I hadn’t heard anything about my mother being hospitalized. And my mother was the sweetest woman alive; she would never harass a nurse. Confused, I called home. “Mom, are you in the hospital?” “Nonsense!” Her voice was as vibrant as ever. “I’m in the Maldives, scuba diving!” After hanging up, I texted Nurse Davis back. Brendan: Nurse Davis, my mother isn’t in the hospital. There must be some mistake. Nurse Davis: Dr. Sterling, your wife brought her in personally. She brought you lunch several times, we’ve all seen her. There’s no mistake. A moment later, she sent a short video. A woman with permed hair was jabbing her finger in a young nurse’s face. “My daughter-in-law is the CEO of Vance Industries! You dare to give me substandard care? Believe it or not, she’ll buy this hospital and turn it into a public toilet!” “You nurses are just modern-day servants! What’s wrong with washing my underwear for me? My daughter-in-law paid for the VIP package! That means you serve me! You do whatever I say!” I zoomed in on the video. I didn’t recognize the woman’s sharp, cruel face at all. Alarmed and bewildered, I couldn’t wait for my colleagues. I booked a flight home the same day the conference ended. As soon as I landed, I went straight to the hospital. The old woman was in the VIP room, cracking sunflower seeds, the shells littered all over the floor. “Ma’am,” I said, stepping in front of a furious Nurse Davis. “You said your daughter-in-law is Ava Vance, the CEO of Vance Industries. What is your relationship to her?” “She’s my daughter-in-law!” the woman spat, sunflower seed shells flying from her lips. “And my son is—” I held up my marriage certificate. “What a coincidence. My wife is also named Ava Vance, and she’s also the CEO of Vance Industries.” “I just wasn’t aware that my wife had a second mother-in-law. Or that I had a second mother.” The room went silent. The sunflower seeds scattered from the woman’s lap. “You… you’re Brendan—” “So you do know me,” I said, picking up the nameplate from her bedside table. “Mrs. Miller. And what’s your son’s name?” She suddenly snatched the call bell and threw it at me. “None of your damn business! My son is ten times the man you are!” I sidestepped the projectile and nodded to Nurse Davis. “Call security. And the police. Report it as medical fraud.” The police arrived quickly. As Mrs. Miller was throwing a tantrum on the floor, her son burst into the room. White shirt, gold-rimmed glasses, and a tie that I recognized as one I’d thrown out last year. Liam Carter. “Dr. Sterling?” His face went pale. “You… you’re not supposed to be back yet. When did you get here?” I smiled. “Thanks to you and your mother, I just arrived.” Ava was truly something else. So much for sending Liam to a branch office. This was what she had planned all along. My phone rang. It was a voice message from Ava. “Brendan, send me your flight number. I’ll come pick you up…” I hit the record button on my phone. “No need. Just come straight to VIP room 3 at my hospital.” “And thank you so much for the wonderful surprise.” There was a distinct pause on the other end of the line. “Brendan,” she said, her voice tight. “You know.”

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1 My best friend and I had just finished dinner and were about to leave when a woman blocked our path, insisting I pay for another table’s bill. I refused, telling her I didn’t know them. She exploded. “Damn it, I’m doing you a favor by letting you pay! Who the hell do you think you are, disrespecting the Sterling Corporation in this city? You looking to die?” Before I could respond, she became even more arrogant. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m the wife of Sterling Corporation’s chairman, Rory Sterling! Scared now, aren’t you?” I froze for a second, then pulled out my phone and dialed Rory’s number. “I hear you have another wife at the company?” … The moment I hung up, the woman flew into a rage. She snatched my phone and smashed it on the floor. “Still trying to call for backup? Believe it or not, I can make sure you never walk out of this restaurant.” “Stop it!” My friend, Moya Devaney, pulled me behind her. “Is this how people from Sterling Corporation behave? Harassing strangers for money and getting physical without any reason?” The woman’s face flushed with anger. “Manners? In this city, the Sterling name is manners! I’m letting you pay my bill because I’m giving you a chance to climb the social ladder, understand? You want to talk about rules? My word is the rule here!” I laughed out loud, looking up at the woman, whose name I now knew was Ivy Lilley. “Sterling Corporation may be big, but I doubt they taught you how to be a highway robber.” Ivy snorted, planting her hands on her hips like a common shrew. “I’m giving you a chance to network! Do you know how many people are lining up to buy me dinner? I wouldn’t even give them the time of day!” A chance to network. As if my family, the Croftons, ever needed to network with anyone in this city. I glanced at Moya, her expression dark. I knew my friend, a princess from the capital’s most elite circles, was shocked to be bullied by someone from a company like Sterling. Ivy sneered and waved a hand toward the door. “Let me tell you something. In this city, what I, Ivy Lilley, say, goes! Grab these two idiots who don’t know their place!” The words had barely left her mouth when seven or eight bodyguards in black suits swarmed in, surrounding us. Moya instinctively pulled me back, her eyes sharp and ready for a fight. But there were too many of them. Before she could make a move, two men grabbed her arms, pinning her. “Moya!” I lunged forward, but a sharp blow to the back of my neck sent darkness exploding behind my eyes. Through the haze, I saw Moya struggling, cursing them, before a fist slammed into her jaw. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. I was forced to the ground, helpless, as Ivy kicked Moya in the stomach, spitting insults. “You dare meddle in my business? Today, I’ll teach you that you don’t mess with Sterling Corporation!” Fists rained down on me, each blow a dull, throbbing pain. Moya had only come to visit, and now she was caught in this mess. “Ivy Lilley!” I yelled, my voice hoarse. “I am Rory Sterling’s legally wedded wife, Autumn Crofton.” I gestured to Moya, who was still being held down. “And she is Moya Devaney, from the Devaney family of the capital! Let us go now, and we can still forget this ever happened!” Ivy’s foot froze mid-air. Then she burst out laughing. “Rory Sterling’s wife? From the Devaney family? Did you two get your brains beaten out?” The people at her table roared with laughter. “Everyone knows the boss’s wife is Vice President Lilley.” “She’s really got some nerve, making up stories like that.” “The Devaney family? From the capital? Never heard of them. Probably just some name she pulled out of a hat to scare us.” Ivy leaned down and grabbed a fistful of my hair, her eyes vicious. “Say you’re his wife one more time, and I’ll rip your mouth off. I’ll show you what’s real and what’s fake. Only I can say Rory’s name. And I am the only woman who will ever be his.” Moya, still pinned to the floor with blood on her lips, let out a mocking laugh. “Well, Autumn Crofton, looks like you got married for nothing. This woman is claiming your man right in front of you, and you, the actual wife, are the one left looking like a fool.” Her words, strangely, made me want to laugh. And I did, though it was a harsh, bitter sound. Ivy was still pulling my hair. I suddenly jerked my head to the side and bit down, hard, on her wrist. She screamed in pain, her grip loosening. I used the momentum to slam my knee into the groin of the bodyguard behind me. As he doubled over in agony, I grabbed a beer bottle from a nearby table and smashed it over another guard’s head. By the time Ivy realized what was happening, I was on her, my fist connecting with her face. She stumbled back, stunned by the sudden counterattack, blood gushing from her nose. “You bitch! You dare hit me?!” she shrieked, clawing at my face. I caught her arm and threw her to the ground. I straddled her, raining down punches. The Sterling employees at her table, reeking of alcohol, rushed forward to pull me off. “You’re attacking VP Lilley? Are you tired of living?” Somehow, Moya had broken free. She kicked away a man who was coming at me and yelled, “Beat the hell out of her, Autumn! I’ve never been this insulted in my entire life!” In the chaos, someone smashed a chair across my back. I grunted in pain but didn’t stop. Ivy was screaming, scratching wildly at my hair. “Sterling security! Kill her! I’ll take responsibility! Triple bonuses for everyone!” The employees swarmed me like a pack of wolves, grabbing my arms, my waist, kicking at my legs. As I was being pulled back, Ivy kicked me hard in the stomach. I staggered back, and was about to charge again when a voice boomed from the restaurant entrance. “Everyone, stop!” 2 Two men in police uniforms pushed their way in. They frowned at the wreckage, but their expressions changed completely when they saw the bruised and beaten Ivy Lilley on the floor. “VP Lilley? What are you doing here? What happened?” one of the officers, a portly man, asked, his voice dripping with sycophancy as he rushed to help her up. Seeing the police, Ivy acted as if her savior had arrived. She pointed a trembling finger at Moya and me. “Officer Wang! These two outsiders are crazy! They refused to pay for their meal and then started a fight! Look what they did to me! And my employees! They’re all injured!” The portly officer glanced at our own injuries and dismissed them, turning to us with a scowl. “What do you two think you’re doing? Brawling in broad daylight and assaulting employees of Sterling Corporation? You’ve got some nerve!” “She was the one who started it,” Moya said, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “She tried to force us to pay her bill.” “Nonsense!” Ivy interrupted immediately. “I was just trying to be nice, letting them bask in the glory of the Sterling name for a moment, and they just turned on me! They even had the audacity to pretend to be my husband’s wife and some big shot from the capital.” The portly officer clearly believed her. He pointed at the shattered glass and overturned tables. “Regardless, you beat her up like this and destroyed the restaurant’s property. It’s clearly your fault! Let me tell you, in this city, everyone shows respect to Sterling Corporation. VP Lilley is Rory Sterling’s woman. By touching her, you’re disrespecting Sterling, and you’re going against the rules of this entire city!” The other, thinner officer was already brandishing a pair of handcuffs. “Enough talk. You’re coming with us to the station. Oh, and you’ll be covering VP Lilley’s bill, the damages to the restaurant, her medical bills, and her emotional distress compensation. Then, if you get on your knees and apologize, maybe we can settle this privately.” “On what grounds?” I laughed, furious. “She started this, and you’re convicting us without even investigating?” “On what grounds? On the grounds that you’re not from around here!” the portly officer waved his hand dismissively. “You’re in our city, you play by our rules. VP Lilley letting you pay her bill was an honor. Don’t be ungrateful!” Moya sneered. “I’d like to see if the rules of this city are above the laws of this country.” “Still talking back, huh?” The thin officer moved to cuff me. “Looks like you haven’t learned your lesson!” I dodged him. Enraged, he pulled out a stun baton and flicked it on. “You want to do this the hard way?” he said, jabbing it towards me. “Looks like you’re itching for a stay in a jail cell!” A jolt of electricity shot through me. My whole body seized up, and I nearly collapsed. Moya caught me, her eyes blazing. “How dare you abuse your authority?” “Abuse my authority? I’m performing my official duties,” the portly officer said, pulling out his own stun baton and pointing it at Moya. “In this city, anything involving Sterling Corporation is a big deal. People like you who don’t know their place need to be taught a lesson!” Moya grunted as the electricity hit her, the smell of burning fabric in the air. “You power-tripping dogs… you’ll regret this one day…” “Regret it?” The portly officer’s grin widened. He used his baton to lift Moya’s chin. “You can regret it all you want when you’re getting beaten every day in your cell.” He turned to Ivy, his face a mask of fawning servitude. “VP Lilley, is this enough for you? If not, I can turn it up a notch!” Ivy watched, smugly. “A little more. They need to learn who’s in charge here.” The portly officer kicked me, then bowed to Ivy again. “VP Lilley, if you don’t mind my asking, when is the baby due? My partner and I will be sure to prepare a generous gift to congratulate you and Mr. Sterling.” The thin officer nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes! We hope you’ll give us the honor of sharing in your joy. Maybe Mr. Sterling might even consider a little promotion for us…” At the mention of this, Ivy smiled. “About four or five months. I had it checked. It’s a boy.” Ivy… was pregnant. The news hit me like a physical blow. I’d been away on a business trip for six months. I had only just returned, and Rory already had a child on the way. The blood rushed to my head. Rory and I had been married for two years, and he’d always put off having children, claiming he was too busy with the company. I struggled to get up. Seeing me move, the thin officer jabbed the stun baton at the back of my neck. My vision went black. As I was about to fall, Ivy grabbed a stool and raised it over my head. Just then, the sound of hurried, expensive footsteps echoed from the restaurant entrance.

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Julian McCann and I grew up together, yet despised each other. He blamed me for Serena’s death—the love of his life. I resented him for never feeling anything for me. Ten years of marriage left us scarred and broken. But when our car plunged into the ocean, he gave me the only oxygen tank. “Swim,” he gasped, shoving me from the wreck. “Live a good life… alone.” As the car sank, his final words were: “My debt is paid. If there’s a next life… may we never meet again.” They only recovered his body—still clutching his true love’s ring. That night, I slit my wrists to follow him. But I woke up reborn—on the day of my arranged marriage. “I’ll marry into the Thorne family,” I told my father. “Let Serena have Julian.” This time, I’d endure the Thornes’ cruelty. Let him finally be happy with her. … “Do you have any idea what kind of place the Thorne estate is? It’s a den of wolves that chews people up and spits them out!” My father’s eyes were wide with disbelief. Serena and I were half-sisters, and we’d never gotten along. For me to suddenly renounce the love of my life and take her place in a dangerous marriage alliance was enough to shock anyone. “I know,” I said, my voice unwavering. “I just need you to agree.” My father looked at me, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. The Thorne family was the wealthiest in the great port city, a sprawling dynasty of old money and new power. The head of the family, Damien Thorne, was rumored to have killed his own father to seize control. They said he was violent, sadistic, a true monster. Because my father carried a deep guilt over what happened to my mother, and because he knew how much I loved Julian, he couldn’t bear to send me into that nightmare. But now, seeing my resolve, he had no choice but to consent. His new wife had been tormenting him over sending her precious Serena away. This solved all his problems. He could have his peace, and his conscience would be clear. After speaking with my father, I went to the McCann estate. The marriage between Julian and me had been arranged by his grandfather, and it was only right that I inform the old man of my change of heart. As I stepped into the grand hall of the old mansion, the sharp crack of a whip echoed through the air. In my past life, Julian had refused the marriage, declaring his love for my sister, Serena. He had willingly submitted himself to the family’s brutal discipline to defy his grandfather. Back then, desperate to marry him, I had thrown myself in front of him, taking ninety-nine lashes meant for him on my own back. Crushed by guilt, he had finally agreed to marry me, going against his own heart. That act had sealed Serena’s fate. She was sent to Port Sterling in my place and was tormented to death by the Thornes. And for that, Julian had hated me for the rest of our lives. This time, as I entered the hall, I walked right past him. He was on his knees, his back a bloody mess, but I didn’t spare him a single glance. I went straight to his grandfather. “Grandfather, I need to speak with you.” The old man lowered the whip. Before he could speak, Julian’s raw voice cut through the silence. “Anya, I’ve only ever seen you as a sister. Why are you so desperate to marry me?” I took a deep breath, fighting back tears. “I’m not.” Julian tried to say more, but another sharp crack of the whip silenced him. When I left the study, the old patriarch looked grave. But my mind was made up. He could only watch me go, his heart full of regret. In the center of the hall, Julian was still kneeling, his face pale as a sheet. “Anya Linwood, don’t you understand?” he rasped, his voice laced with accusation. “If I don’t marry Serena, she’s the one they’ll send to Port Sterling. She’ll die there!” A sharp pain shot through my heart. I wanted to scream that I was the one going, but I held my tongue. Instead, a bitter question escaped my lips. “The Linwood family has two daughters. If she doesn’t go, then it’s my turn. Does that mean I deserve to die?” His eyes darted away, unable to meet mine. A self-mocking smile touched my lips, and I turned to leave. “Does it have to be the Thornes?” he called out after a moment of silence. “Do you have so little faith in me? You think the McCann fortune can’t save your family?” My back was to him. “Yes,” I said, each word a shard of ice. “It can’t. The Linwood corporation is two hundred million in the red. How exactly were you planning to help with that?” Silence. I didn’t look back. I walked out the door as tears streamed down my face. Julian, you got your wish. In this life, you can be with the one you love. Staying away from you is my final gift. I didn’t sleep that night. I had died once, but it would be a lie to say I wasn’t terrified of marrying into the Thorne family. In my last life, Serena’s ashes were sent back after only six months. How long could I survive on that knife’s edge? The next morning, I decided to visit my mother’s grave. As I opened my front door, a hand shot out and clamped around my neck, slamming me against the doorframe. The strong scent of cigars filled my nose. Julian’s eyes were shot with red. “Anya Linwood,” he snarled, “are you really going to stand by and watch your own sister die?” His grip tightened. I clawed at his arm, my vision starting to blur. “Julian… let go…” But he was like a man possessed. “Anya, this cold-blooded monster you’ve become… you’re a perfect match for that devil in Port Sterling. You’re the one who should be going!” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “A person like you deserves to die at his hands.” My body went rigid. It was happening again. His face, his words—they were identical to a memory from my past life. The world blurred. Tears streamed down my face. The sight of them seemed to snap him out of his rage. He let go, stumbling back, the madness in his eyes clearing. He grabbed my hand, his voice shaking. “I’m sorry… Anya, I’m so sorry. I… I was just so angry.” His eyes were filled with regret, his lips trembling. But I turned away and got in my car. I knew his kindness was born from duty. My mother had been his mentor, his teacher. He felt he owed her. I was the fool who mistook obligation for love. I’d spent a lifetime being a fool. It was time to wake up. From the cemetery, I could see Julian and Serena in the garden, working at a pottery wheel. He was sitting behind her, his hands covering hers, their bodies pressed close. My father must have told Serena about the change of plans, but warned her not to tell Julian yet. Knowing her dream was about to come true, Serena was beaming. “Julian,” she cooed, “are you always this… intimate… when you teach pottery?” He squeezed her hands, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never seen. “Only with you. And one other person.” A knife twisted in my chest. That other person was me. My mother was a master potter, and Julian had been her most prized student. I’d never cared for pottery until he came along. Then I spent every day in my mother’s studio, begging him to teach me. He never refused, always patient, always kind. He would even sculpt little animals for me. After my mother died, Julian became my entire world. He promised he would protect me in her place. But then my father brought his mistress and their illegitimate daughter, Serena, into our home. And everything changed. Julian changed. Serena’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Julian, let’s make a kitten mug!” Julian’s hands flinched on the clay, nearly sending it flying. I loved kittens. My mother used to make me all sorts of cat-shaped ceramics. After she was gone, Julian had taken up the tradition. I looked up and met Serena’s eyes. They were filled with triumph and provocation. I knew she was doing it on purpose. But I refused to fight her. I turned and went back to my room. The next morning, a small, unglazed clay kitten was sitting on my windowsill. I knew it was from Julian. It was our secret pact from childhood. Whenever he made me angry, he would leave a clay kitten as an apology. It was meaningless now. As I came downstairs, Serena’s voice came from behind me. “Going to Port Sterling means you’ll be reunited with your short-lived mother soon. You must be so happy, dear sister.” I spun around. She was smiling, her fingernails trailing lightly down my cheek. “I suppose I should thank you for making this all possible.” I slapped her hand away. “Serena! Don’t you dare speak about my mother.” Her smile widened. “Or what?” I trembled with rage, my hand raised to strike her. In that instant, Serena’s eyes darted past me. A cold smirk flashed across her face. She grabbed my arm and threw her weight backward, pulling us both down the stairs. “Anya, no! Don’t push me!” she screamed. The world spun. We landed in a heap, Serena on top of me. My head slammed against the corner of a table. A blinding pain, and then the warm rush of blood. A familiar figure appeared in my blurry vision. “Help… me…” I rasped. But Julian strode right past me. He knelt and gathered Serena into his arms. Only after he had settled her on the sofa and confirmed she had nothing more than a few scrapes did he seem to remember I was there. I struggled to sit up. But as Serena began to sob, Julian’s face hardened. “How could you be so vicious?” he snapped at me. “Pushing your own sister down the stairs? What if she’d been seriously hurt? Did you think you could take her place in the alliance then?” I clutched my bleeding head, trying to explain. “Julian, it wasn’t me…” “Enough!” he roared. “You disappoint me, Anya. How did you become so hateful and jealous? Is this how you honor your mother’s memory? Is this…” SMACK. I dragged myself to my feet and hit him, hard. He froze, stunned. His hand came up as if to strike back, but stopped in mid-air. Looking at him, a thousand moments from our past life flashed before my eyes. We were always like this. We knew each other so well, we knew exactly where to stick the knife. My body trembled as I glared at him, my teeth clenched. “No one has the right to speak of my mother,” I spat. “Not even you.” And then the world went black. Julian stood guard outside my hospital room for three days and three nights, but I refused to let him in. On the day before the wedding, I was discharged. He cornered me at the hospital entrance. “Anya,” he said after a long silence. “Don’t worry. I’ll marry you.” I was still weak. I didn’t answer. “I promised your mother I would protect you for the rest of your life,” he continued. “I won’t break my word.” I took a deep breath and looked up at him. “If I’m the one being sent to Port Sterling, how are you going to protect me then?” The silence was deafening. I pushed past him. As I walked away, he spoke again, a bitter twist to his lips. “Anya, your father would never let you go to Port Sterling… and you wouldn’t go.” In that instant, my heart froze over. I pulled my arm from his grasp and walked away without another word. I packed my bags for Port Sterling. I told my father not to send an entourage. Just a driver. Today was also the day of Julian and Serena’s wedding. My car had just left the villa when it was blocked. I couldn’t see who it was through the tinted windows until I heard Julian’s voice. “I’m sorry, Serena…” My heart skipped a beat. He’d left his own wedding to see me. No… not me. He was here to see Serena.

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When I told my wife I wanted a divorce, she was at the sink, washing dishes. Her hands, slick with soap, paused for a fraction of a second. Then, she gave a slight nod. “Okay.” This was the fifth time I had brought it up. The first four times had been a storm of shock, anger, and grief, her pleas grating on my last nerve. But this time, she simply agreed. Just like that. A casual, weightless acceptance, as if I’d merely commented on the weather. I watched her slender back, a silhouette against the kitchen window. A surge of exhilaration washed over me, but beneath it, a strange and unfamiliar feeling bloomed in my chest… 1 I was still on the sofa, trying to decipher the strange knot of unease in my gut, when Isabella called. “So? Did she agree this time?” Her voice was soft, but laced with a nervous tension. I snapped back to the present, shaking my head as if to clear it. A smile broke across my face. “Yeah. She agreed.” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. Then, her voice trembling, “Really? Ethan, you’re not joking, are you?” A pang of sympathy hit me. “Bella,” I said, my voice softening, “it’s true. She really said yes. We can finally be together, out in the open.” A quiet sob came through the phone. “Oh, thank God… I can finally have you.” Her raw, overwhelming emotion brought a sting to my own eyes. This was the fifth time I’d asked Christine for a divorce. The first four had been met with a hard no. Over two years, her reactions had devolved from shock and fury to a painful, pleading despair. And I, in turn, had gone from guilt and shame to a weary, numb annoyance. Every failed negotiation felt like a personal failure, a betrayal to Isabella. She was always so hopeful, so full of longing, yet so patient. Even with the disappointment clouding her face, she would be the one to comfort me. “She’s a woman, I get it,” she’d say. “And you two have a child. It’s fine. We’ll just work harder, land a few more projects, and we can offer her a bigger settlement. God, if it wasn’t for true love, why would we be doing any of this…?” Today was the first time I had been home in two months. I’d called ahead. When I walked in, a full dinner was on the table. Christine was sitting under the warm glow of a floor lamp, lost in a book. She looked up as I entered, folded the corner of a page, and calmly told me to wash up for dinner. Our daughter, Sophie, was at a friend’s birthday party downstairs. Before coming, Isabella and I had made a pact. If Christine refused again, we would increase the settlement offer in the divorce agreement by another twenty percent. I had steeled myself for another all-night battle. I never could have predicted this. I’d barely gotten the words out, and she had agreed without a fight. On the phone, even Isabella was puzzled. “Ethan,” she said after a thoughtful pause, “she’s not planning something, is she? Some kind of trick?” I couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. As the head of negotiations for my company, her mind was trained to look for the hidden angle, the trap in every easy victory. I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. “I doubt it. Christine’s a stay-at-home mom. She doesn’t know the first thing about corporate backstabbing.” Isabella’s voice grew gentle again. “You can never be too sure. She might not know how, but that doesn’t mean she can’t find someone who does. For the company… for our future… I think you should be careful, Ethan.” I was silent for a moment. “Don’t worry,” I said. 2 Christine emerged from the bedroom holding a file. I watched her, studying her expression. Her eyes were placid pools, her face a calm mask. None of the tearful breakdowns or hysterical rage I’d grown used to. “I’ve already signed it,” she said, holding the papers out to me. “Just let me know when you’ve scheduled the appointment at the courthouse.” She handed me the document and turned to make tea. The kettle began its low, gurgling song, and soon the rich, earthy scent of dark tea filled the room. When she poured, I instinctively reached out to take the cup from her. But she brought it to her own lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip, her expression one of pure, relaxed contentment. Seeing my outstretched hand, she looked at me, a flicker of genuine confusion in her eyes. “The divorce papers are in your hand, aren’t they?” My brow furrowed. I pulled my hand back and looked down at the agreement. Ten minutes later, I looked up, bewildered. “This is the same one I gave you last time. You haven’t changed a single word?” Christine was curled up on the sofa, sipping her tea and returning to her book. She glanced up, a momentary blankness in her eyes before she registered my question. “Oh. No, I didn’t. It seemed fine to me.” I stared at her for a long moment, then decided to press on. “Christine, if this is still too hard for you, I can increase the settlement amount.” She tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Increase it? Has Isabella approved that?” A familiar wave of irritation washed over me. For the past two years, every conversation about the divorce inevitably circled back to Isabella. In Christine’s eyes, I was the weak-willed cheater and Isabella was the shameless homewrecker. She had no idea what we’d been through—the guilt, the agonizing struggle, the painful journey that had led us to this point. 3 The truth is, Isabella and I couldn’t stand each other at first. My business partner had hired her as our Director of Negotiations, and she was everything I wasn’t used to. A whirlwind of stiletto heels, blood-red lipstick, and figure-hugging pencil skirts. She was a shark at work—ruthless at the negotiating table and unafraid to challenge me in front of the entire team. Christine was her polar opposite. Gentle, quiet, and unassuming. She rarely wore makeup, her clothes were simple, and her world revolved around me, our daughter, and her little universe of tea, books, and houseplants. I had never encountered a woman like Isabella in my personal life. One day, as I was complaining about her yet again, Christine was carefully trimming an orchid. She looked up from between the vibrant green leaves and smiled at me. “You’ve been mentioning her a lot lately.” My perception of Isabella shifted the day I found her crying in the stairwell, huddled on the steps with her face in her hands. Our eyes met. Hers were red-rimmed and raw. She wiped her tears away, scrambled to her feet, and mumbled an apology before marching away, head held high. I later learned from my partner that she was a single mother, divorced due to domestic abuse. She was raising a seven-year-old daughter on her own while her ex-husband continued to harass her. Knowing the vulnerability hidden beneath her tough-as-nails exterior changed everything. In turn, her attitude towards me softened. We became a team, our professional synergy growing stronger by the day. In meetings, she understood my unspoken intentions; I knew when her bravado was a bluff. At boozy client dinners, she’d discreetly block a drink for me or slide a cup of hot tea my way when I’d had too much. Then came the night I saw her ex-husband cornering her, getting aggressive. I didn’t think; I just charged in and threw a punch. I heard her gasp. I remember coming home that night with my head bandaged. Christine was terrified. She clung to me, her voice trembling. “Does it hurt? Your head can’t get hurt! Are you really okay?” Isabella and I didn’t sleep together until three years after we met. It was at the company’s annual retreat in a charming, historic town. Christine had always dreamed of visiting a place like that. For one of her birthdays, she’d wished for me to take her and Sophie on a trip to a quaint old town. So, when the events department asked for a location, the words “a historic town” just tumbled out of my mouth. My original plan was to surprise Christine, but by then, my relationship with Isabella had become a tangled, unspoken thing. On some dark impulse, I never told Christine about the trip. The nights in that town were too beautiful, the wine too easy to drink, the scenery a mesmerizing blur. Isabella, wearing only a silk nightgown, knocked on my hotel room door. We spent a wild, forbidden night together. We both knew we had crossed a line. When we got back, I wrestled with my conscience and decided to cut off all direct work contact with her. She accepted my decision without a word of protest, but her eyes were filled with a silent, sorrowful reproach. Later, Christine saw the photos from the trip on my phone. “When did you go to a historic town?” she asked, her face lighting up. “Why didn’t you take me?” Guilt coiled in my stomach. “It was just for a conference,” I mumbled. “A one-day thing. It wasn’t worth mentioning.” Eventually, Isabella resigned. I agreed it was for the best. We both knew it was the only way. After she left, we didn’t speak once. Until three months later, when we found ourselves on opposite sides of a negotiation table. She had gone to work for a competitor. At the dinner that followed, their CEO and his cronies were relentless, forcing drink after drink on me. Just as they were about to pour another one down my throat, Isabella, who had been silent all evening, grabbed a bottle and smashed it over the CEO’s head. She lost her job, her savings, and spent fifteen days in a holding cell. I was there to pick her up the day she was released. We went straight to a hotel. We barely left the room for days. And in that haze, I had an epiphany. You only live once. To hell with duty, to hell with morality. Call me a scoundrel, a homewrecker, I didn’t care. I was going to dive in. I was going to be reckless. I couldn’t betray a woman who had sacrificed so much for me. …My thoughts snapped back to the present. On this day, as my seven-year marriage was finally ending, the last thing I wanted was to hear Isabella’s name from Christine’s lips. “I’ll let you know when the appointment is set. Don’t be late,” I said coldly, and left. As I stepped into the elevator, I ran into my daughter, Sophie. She was holding a slice of birthday cake, a huge grin on her face that vanished the moment she saw me. “Sophie, Dad’s—” She brushed past me without a word, her face a blank mask. I frowned. Sophie used to throw her arms around my neck and shout “Daddy!” the second she saw me. After two months apart, she was looking at me like I was a stranger. I had specifically told Christine not to tell Sophie about the divorce yet. Clearly, she hadn’t listened. From the lobby, I glanced up at our apartment window. Sophie was there, happily feeding a piece of cake to Christine, who was leaning down to accept it, her eyes crinkling into a smile. My phone buzzed. A text from Isabella. [Honey, come home soon. Your wife has a big reward waiting for you tonight!] It was the first time she had ever called me that. I could feel her excitement, her elation, vibrating through the screen. I let out a long breath and walked away, not looking back. 4 The divorce agreement stipulated that Christine would get full custody of Sophie and the apartment we lived in. Since my company was about to go public, my shares would remain untouched, but I would pay her a settlement of eight hundred thousand dollars, due in one year. When Isabella saw the amount, her heart ached for me. “You built this company from scratch, Ethan. All those sleepless nights. To just give that much away… how many projects will it take to earn that back?” “I’m the one who wronged her,” I reassured her. “We should be grateful. If she’d pushed for half of our marital assets, it would have been far, far more than this.” Isabella rested her head on my shoulder. “I just worry about you working yourself to death.” She was incredibly efficient. Within days, she had scheduled the appointment to finalize the divorce. I sent the time to Christine. She replied with a single word: [Okay.] In the days leading up to it, Isabella was visibly glowing. And why not? It had been two long years since I first asked for a divorce. We had endured so much, carried so many burdens to get to this point. Still, a part of her couldn’t quite believe it. “Why did she suddenly agree? Are you sure there isn’t a catch? It just feels too good to be true.” It wasn’t just her. I had my own doubts. Late one night, as Isabella slept soundly beside me, I stood by the window smoking, my mind a tangled mess. A small incident surfaced from my memory. About a month ago, I was in a meeting when Christine called, her voice tight with anger. “Why did you give Sophie’s spot in the piano competition to Isabella’s daughter?” I was instantly annoyed. “Sophie competes every year,” I snapped. “Belle has never had an opportunity like this. What’s the big deal letting her have a turn? Besides, I’m a patron of that arts academy. Sophie will have plenty of other chances.” There was a long silence on the other end. Then, in a low voice, Christine said, “Do you have any idea how hard Sophie has worked for this competition? She said she wanted to prove that her dad didn’t play favorites. She wanted to win first place to make you proud…” I hated being emotionally blackmailed like this. “I’ll buy her a gift to make up for it,” I said gruffly. “Belle is a child who’s had a rough life—” She hung up before I could finish. On the day of the competition, I drove Isabella and Belle to the venue. We got stuck in traffic, and through the car window, I saw Christine and Sophie on her small scooter. Christine didn’t know how to drive, and while the academy wasn’t far, the roads were always congested. The wind was strong that day, whipping their hair into a tangled mess. They looked small and vulnerable. I glanced over at Belle in her exquisite princess dress, sipping milk and nestled safely in Isabella’s arms. Suddenly, a car cut them off. The scooter tipped, and Christine and Sophie tumbled onto the pavement. A primal urge to jump out of the car seized me, but Isabella gripped my arm, shaking her head slowly. “She already dislikes me and Belle. Showing up now will only make her angrier. Look, they’re okay. They’re getting up.” I looked. They were helping each other to their feet. Just then, Belle rolled down her window. “Sophie!” she yelled, her voice dripping with triumph. “We’re going to the competition in Ethan’s car! Are you going too?” In a flash of panic, my eyes met Christine’s. I braced myself for an outburst. But she only gave me a fleeting, unreadable glance before turning to comfort Sophie. A moment later, they were back on the scooter and gone. …Ever since I’d chosen this path, I’d made a conscious effort not to dwell on things that might weaken my resolve. I couldn’t do right by everyone. I told myself that a generous settlement would make up for it. For a stay-at-home mom who had never worked a day in her life, it was a windfall. Compared to most, she was lucky. I stubbed out my cigarette, extinguishing the unwanted memory along with it. 5 On the day of our appointment, Isabella insisted on coming with me. She said she wanted to offer Christine a sincere apology. I hesitated. “What if she makes a scene? Does something to you…” She gave a bitter smile. “Then I’ll have deserved it. It’ll be my penance.” We arrived at the courthouse ten minutes early. Isabella squeezed my hand, a silent gesture of mutual support. When Christine walked in, I didn’t recognize her at first. She was a world away from her usual simple, makeup-free look. She wore a navy-blue trench coat cinched at the waist and a pair of high heels. Her long, dark hair, glossy as satin, cascaded down her back. Her makeup was subtle, accentuating her naturally fair skin and making her eyes sparkle. She walked with an easy grace, her hands tucked into her pockets. She seemed to possess a strange, calming aura. Wherever she stood, a sense of peace settled over the space. It was true at home, and it was true here. The noisy lobby seemed to quiet down, all eyes drawn to her. For a disorienting moment, I felt a wave of distant, hazy familiarity wash over me. I stood up and walked toward her. The first words out of my mouth were, “You can wear heels?” She blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “Yes.” “I’ve never seen you wear them before.” A slight frown creased her brow. “I have something on today.” I wanted to ask what, but Isabella walked over just then. Her eyes widened for a second when she saw Christine, but she quickly composed herself and smiled. “Christine. I hope you don’t mind me being here.” Christine looked at her for a few seconds, then the corners of her lips curved upwards. “Not anymore.” Hearing that, a strange irritation pricked at me. “This is a public place,” I said harshly. “Don’t start crying and making a scene like you used to.” I wasn’t being unfair. During the two-year-long ordeal of our separation, she had cried and screamed. More often, she would just stare at me with red-rimmed eyes, murmuring things that made no sense. “Ethan, you do love me. You just don’t remember.” “Ethan, what am I going to do with you?” “Ethan, I can’t hold on much longer. Please don’t blame me…” We had loved each other once, deeply. But I had changed. Towards the end, my patience had worn thin. “Christine,” I’d told her, “the past is the past. People change. You have to accept it.” Now, Christine just lowered her gaze and smiled faintly. “Let’s go sign the papers.” The process was smooth. The clerk informed us there was a one-month cooling-off period before the divorce would be final. As we stepped out of the courthouse, Isabella gathered her courage. “I came today because I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said earnestly to Christine. “What happened with Ethan and me… I guess some things are just fated.” Christine smiled and glanced at the designer handbag on Isabella’s arm. “Are you sure you didn’t just come to show me that bag?” The two women stood in silence, the autumn leaves swirling around them. Then Isabella smiled back. I had no idea what they were talking about. I looked closer at the bag. A silk scarf was tied around the handle. It looked familiar… Then it hit me. I had bought that bag for Isabella six months ago. It was obscenely expensive, worth more than some people’s cars. As Isabella was kissing me in thanks, Christine had called, her soft voice reminding me it was her birthday and that she was waiting for me to come home for dinner. A pang of guilt had struck me, but Isabella, ever so magnanimous, had urged me to go. “A friendly divorce is better for the company’s IPO,” she’d said. “Don’t be stubborn.” She had smiled and untied a silk scarf from the bag’s handle. “This brand’s scarves aren’t cheap either. Take this for her birthday present. It’ll save you a trip. I’ll just get another one from the store later.” I remember Christine had been so happy with the scarf, her eyes like a doe’s as she tried it on this way and that. And now, her gaze swept coolly over the new scarf on that very same bag, then drifted away without a trace of emotion. 6 I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Ever since Christine agreed to the divorce, forgotten moments and overlooked details kept surfacing, unbidden. I told myself it was just nostalgia, my brain’s way of severing ties with the past. I took Isabella to meet my parents. She put on her most humble demeanor, bearing expensive gifts, but my parents were cold and distant. They had always been vehemently against the divorce. During our worst argument about it, my father had pointed at me, his voice trembling with rage. “You goddamn fool! You’re throwing away something you nearly died for! Do you have any idea what she gave up for you? One day, you’ll regret this!” “Stop it!” my mother had shrieked, cutting him off. “Do you want him to go back to how he was before…?” Isabella was hurt. She cried in the car on the way home. “The one marrying you is me, not my family,” I comforted her. “Don’t let it get to you.” She quickly pulled herself together. “Your mom said she didn’t want you to go back to how you were before… what did she mean?” I laughed. “You probably can’t imagine it, but I used to be a real handful. Drinking, fighting… I did it all. Got my head smashed in a brawl once, was in a coma for a while. Ever since, I get these splitting headaches when I get too worked up. They’re probably just worried about that.” That night, to cheer Isabella up, I took her to a new bar. It was an elegant place with a traditional theme. The air was filled with the sound of classical music, and all eyes were on the woman on stage. She wore a stunning, form-fitting cheongsam, her body poised and graceful. She held a pipa, her head tilted slightly, her long hair obscuring her face. As her fingers danced over the strings, a melody flowed out, as clear and beautiful as a mountain spring. I stared, transfixed. That same distant, hazy feeling washed over me again, a thousand tiny needles pricking at my heart. Isabella chuckled, leaning close to my ear. “You really fell for me at that company retreat, didn’t you?” I snapped out of my trance and smiled. “You saw right through me.” She rested her head on my shoulder, her voice full of sweet nostalgia. “I wore a cheongsam and played the pipa for the talent show that night. It was just a recording, but the way you looked at me then… it’s the same way you’re looking at the stage now.” The piece ended. The woman on stage rose gracefully, smiled at the audience, and walked off. I felt a jolt. Beside me, Isabella murmured, “She kind of looks like Christine…” I shook my head, a small laugh escaping me. “A little, maybe. But Christine doesn’t know how to play any of that stuff.” My phone rang. It was my younger brother, Owen, calling from France. I stepped into the hallway to take the call. His voice was unusually serious. “Did you really divorce Christine?” “What do you mean, Christine?” I snapped, annoyed. “Call her your sister-in-law.” The words were out before I could stop them. I paused. “The process has started.” Owen was silent for a moment. “I’m coming back next month.” “You just landed a major investment. What are you coming back for?” “For Christine.” I was speechless. I couldn’t understand why my own family was so fiercely protective of her. Annoyed, I went to the window and lit a cigarette. Through the cool night air, I heard voices from outside. “I can’t believe it. You haven’t played in years, but you’ve still got the touch of a gold medalist.” A gentle female voice replied, “Thank you for the opportunity to perform, Mr. Chen.” “With a reaction like that from the crowd, I should be thanking you!” I followed the voices with my eyes. Two figures were walking away. One of them was the woman in the cheongsam. As the wind blew, her hair swept back from her face. And I saw her profile. 7 I pushed open the side door and stepped outside almost without thinking. The woman smiled as she said her goodbyes, then wrapped her coat tighter around herself and walked alone into the night. The sharp, rhythmic click of her heels on the stone path echoed in the autumn silence. I followed her at a distance. The cigarette burned down to my fingers. I yelped, dropping it to the ground. The woman turned around. When I saw her face clearly, I froze. “It’s really you?” Christine squinted at me through the dim light. “Ethan? What are you doing here?” I was at a loss for words. What was I doing here? Why had I followed her? In that split second, my mind had been blank. It was as if my body had made the decision before my brain could catch up. “Ethan!” Isabella’s voice came from behind me. “I was looking all over for you. So you were—” She saw Christine. She stopped, her eyes widening in disbelief, mirroring the question in my own heart. “That was you on stage? You can play the pipa? Or was that just… part of a performance?” Christine let out a soft laugh, not answering her question. Her gaze drifted coolly over the two of us, and then she turned and walked away. The car ride back was thick with a heavy silence. Suddenly, Isabella turned to me. “What were you doing out there? Did you recognize her all along? I thought you said she didn’t know how to play.” “I didn’t know,” I said, my eyes fixed on the road. “She never played for me.” “You were married for seven years and she never once played for you? How is that possible…?” Isabella’s expression was strange. She gave a short, sharp laugh. “She’s really changed. The makeup, the heels… she’s a completely different person. She’s probably already found her next guy. I knew it was too easy when she agreed to the divorce—” I slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt, throwing Isabella forward against her seatbelt with a cry of alarm. I turned to her, my voice low and dangerous. “What are you talking about? Christine is not that kind of person!” Isabella rubbed her shoulder where the seatbelt had dug in, staring at me in shock. Then, her voice rose in anger. “Right, she’s not that kind of person, but I am! I’m the one who threw herself at you, who was happy to be your mistress! I’m the despicable, immoral one!” I scowled. “You don’t have to talk about yourself like that.” Her eyes were red, her emotions spilling over. “I’ve always been a proud woman, Ethan. I have my pride, my self-respect! If it wasn’t for you, for this relationship, why would I have ever put myself in this situation…?” Her voice broke on a sob. I fell silent, letting out a long sigh. “I know what you’ve sacrificed. Let’s just… we’ve come so far. Let’s not fight about things that don’t matter, okay?” She bit her lip, finally nodding with a quiet “mhm.” That night, she wore a new piece of lingerie she’d bought, her movements a mixture of contrition and seduction as she leaned over me. After a long while, I pulled away. “I’m sorry,” I said, frustrated. She looked up, her eyes shining in the darkness. She stroked my cheek, her voice gentle. “It’s okay. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately. I’ll get some herbal remedies tomorrow to help you relax.” I numbly got dressed and told her I was going to the balcony for a smoke. The world outside was silent. As the smoke curled around me, a thought took root in my mind, one I couldn’t shake: There was a side to Christine I had never seen.

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